


To me that's what you're worth

by fardareismai



Series: Where You Lead [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bad dates, F/M, Family Relationships - Freeform, Fighting, Gilmore Girls AU, Kissing, au 'verse, emma/graham past relationship, friends-to-lovers, good dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9911315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fardareismai/pseuds/fardareismai
Summary: Love is (finally) in the air in Storybrooke.  When Mary Margaret sees what everyone else has known for years, will her realization spark one in Emma and Killian?The third volume in the Where You Lead 'Verse





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Welcome to the Where You Lead 'verse! If this is the first story in this (Captain Swan Gilmore Girls) 'verse that you've found, I definitely recommend going back and reading these two stories:**   
>    
>  __  
>  ****  
>  [I always wanted a real home with flowers on the windowsill](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7873537)   
>    
>    
>    
>  __  
>  **[If you're out on the road](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9223946)**   
>    
>    
>  **If you're so inclined, you can also read _[I Will Follow](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8399323)_ , which is a collection of one-shots and missing scenes that is constantly being updated.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
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> **If you're coming to this story from those already, welcome back! This is the story you've been waiting for! This is the part that it took Gilmore Girls five seasons to finally reach!**
> 
>  
> 
> **(I know it feels like I've taken that long as well, but I can assure you I've moved much faster than they did.)**
> 
>  
> 
> **Before we get too much farther, I must, as always, thank someone very important to me. She is my friend, my love, my rock, and my strong write arm (* _everyone groans_ *). She is my Tumblr girlfriend/fiance/wife/nemesis, depending on the day, and she's the only reason this story has managed to grow any legs at all. Thank you, WhoLockGal. You're simply the best.**
> 
>  
> 
> **And for the rest of you, my dearest readers, I thank you so much for your support, your participation, and your love. These are times that try my soul, even as I am much safer and happier than many people out there. I feel, frequently, like there isn't a lot I can do in a scary world, but if my writing can bring a small amount of happiness or relief to someone who is hurting or scared, I'd like to believe that makes everything (the frustration, the fear, the ennui of writing) worth it. I love you all, never forget that.**

Mary Margaret pushed into the Jolly Roger, the late-lunch babble drowning out the bell over the door.

Her green eyes scanned the tables for a head of bright-blonde hair, finally finding it up at the counter, bent in conversation with a dark head on the other side. She wound her way through the tables, waving absently at friendly faces, but not taking her usual time to talk to everyone- she was on a mission.

Emma was talking to Killian, her eyes on the crossword puzzle in the paper.

"Four letters, starts with an 'R.' Female English pirate, Mary blank."

"Read." Killian said absently.

Emma looked up in surprise. "Is that an answer, or an insult because I need help with the crossword puzzle?"

Killian snorted. "Mary Read, R-E-A-D, partner and lover of Anne Bonny. The two of them were the only women ever convicted of piracy in the golden age of Caribbean pirates. She was saved the noose as she was pregnant, but she died of a fever in prison."

"More than I could have possibly needed to know, how do you? Also… why?"

Killian gave her an arch look. "I'm a very clever man, Swan. I know all sorts of things."

Emma said nothing, just gave him a skeptical look that made him grin.

"Pirates were a passion of mine as a lad."

"There it is," Emma said with a grin, bending her head back down to write his answer into the puzzle.

Mary Margaret finally made her way to Emma's side.

"Emma, I'm glad you're here."

Emma looked up and smiled. "Hi Mary Margaret. I'm pretty much always here. Killian's going to start paying me a wage."

Killian snorted again, even as he set a cup of coffee and a small pitcher of cream in front of Mary Margaret without her having to ask.

"What do you think you do around here that would earn a wage, Swan? I don't pay any of the other furniture."

Emma grinned and leaned toward him on the counter. "I'm the prettiest furniture you have, and I class this place up just by being here."

Killian rolled his eyes. "If I were to pay for attractive furniture, I'd just go over to Jeff's. It's much less trouble."

Emma's smile went wicked in an instant. "Hah! So you _do_ think I'm attractive!" she crowed.

Killian groaned and threw up his hands, walking away and leaving Emma sniggering behind him. Mary Margaret noticed, however, that his ears had turned slightly pink.

She had no time to pay attention to Killian's pink ears, however, and turned to Emma.

"I need to talk to you," she said, low and serious.

Emma's grin faded. "Of course. What's going on?"

Mary Margaret lowered her voice even further, not wanting to be overheard. "I think that David… you know, our David? David Nolan."

Emma refrained from rolling her eyes. "Yes, Mary Margaret, I know David."

"I think he might… _like_ me."

She looked up to find Emma watching her without any change of expression.

"Emma? Did you hear me?" she asked, worried.

"Yeah, of course I heard you. Was that it?" Emma shrugged. "I need a bit more warning than that if I have to pretend to be surprised by the blindingly obvious."

"Obvious?"

A plate of onion rings appeared on the counter between the two women.

"David Nolan has been in love with you just about since the first time he laid eyes on you," Killian said.

"He has?" Mary Margaret turned to Emma. "You knew this?" Emma nodded. "Who else knows?"

"Everyone," Emma and Killian chorused together.

Mary Margaret sat with her mouth open for a moment. "How did _I_ not know then?"

Killian shrugged. "I've a personal theory on that, actually."

Mary Margaret turned her eyes to him, pleading. "What is it?"

"Well… you're nearly 35, Mary Margaret, and you haven't had a boyfriend since college. Do you know what it really looks like when an adult is interested in another adult?"

Mary Margaret stared at him with her mouth open.

"Kil!" Emma said, shocked. "Mary Margaret, it's not that…" she hesitated. "I mean obviously you've…" she stopped again, frowning. "Actually… I've known you ten years and you haven't dated anyone in that time."

"I have!" Mary Margaret objected. "I went out with Dr. Whale!"

"And insisted on going Dutch and have barely spoken to him since," Emma finished. "Though, that said-" she turned to glare at Killian, "-people who live in glass houses should _not_ throw stones."

Killian frowned. "What are you saying?"

"Since you and Milah broke up, have you been out with anyone? Gone on a date? And her coming back to town doesn't count- hooking up with your ex isn't dating, and I should know."

"Then you don't have a leg to stand on either, do you? You haven't dated anyone since your son was born," Killian snapped.

Emma opened her mouth, then closed it again, a slight flush lighting her cheeks.

"Of course she has!" Mary Margaret said, making Emma close her eyes in annoyance. "She dated Graham for almost six months back when Henry was in Kindergarten."

"We don't talk about that," Emma said through clenched teeth.

"Wait, Graham Humbert? Sheriff Humbert?" Killian asked, staring at Emma. "You dated the Sheriff? He's never said. _You've_ never said!"

"We. Don't. Talk. About. It," Emma repeated.

"It was right before you came back to town, actually, Killian," Mary Margaret continued, ignoring Emma.

"What happened?" Killian asked Mary Margaret, as it was clear that Emma would not be answering questions.

"Well he'd just been hired as the sheriff- before that he'd been a beat cop in Misthaven- and he was doing the PR thing, specifically going to the grade school and talking about safety and everything with the kids. Henry just about thought he was the coolest- kids that age always like cops. Anyway, Henry and Emma were here for milkshakes after school- that's back when it was Liam's place."

The shadow that passed over Killian's face could have been missed by a blink, he was too interested in Emma's story as told by Mary Margaret.

"George brought him into the Jewel to meet some citizens and Henry got excited and introduced him to Emma."

"Aye," Killian said, glancing over at Emma who was glaring assiduously down at her newspaper, though he noted her eyes weren't moving.

"Well he asked her out a week or so later and the two were together for awhile."

"What happened to end it then?" Killian asked. "Did he and Henry not get on or something?"

"Oh no, he and Henry were great together. Actually… it was Regina."

Emma's scowl got even more pronounced, and Mary Margaret finally faltered in the re-telling.

"What about her?" Killian pressed. "What happened?"

"Well…" Mary Margaret said, finally glancing at Emma. "Well… that was right after she and Emma started to reconcile. They hadn't talked to each other much before that… but Regina came to Storybrooke to see Henry one day, and Graham was there. And… well… I said he'd been a cop in Misthaven?"

"Aye," Killian said.

"He… erm… he knew Regina." Mary Margaret was blushing by this point.

"What?" Killian asked, glancing between the two women, having missed some crucial point.

"He… he _knew_ her," Mary Margaret said again, her face flaming.

"I don't-"

" _Biblically_ , Killian!" Emma burst out. "He and my mother had been screwing each other for four years before he and I started dating."

"Oh," Killian said, mouth hanging open. "He's… uh… he's never said."

"We. Don't. Talk. About. It."

"Regina and Emma do have different last names," Mary Margaret explained. "He honestly didn't know but…"

"But I'll be damned if I'm going to be with my mother's sloppy seconds," Emma said, heatedly.

"Emma…" Mary Margaret said, gently, reaching out to pat her shoulder, only to have Emma twitch irritably away from her.

"So what are you going to do about David?" Emma asked, a slight sharpness to the otherwise inoffensive question.

"Oh!" Mary Margaret said, having apparently completely forgotten the point of her visit to the Jolly Roger that afternoon. "Well, you're right. I haven't done this… ever. So what am I _supposed_ to do?"

"Well the important question is do you like him back," Emma said. "Do you?"

Mary Margaret blinked in surprise. "Oh… well I hadn't thought about it."

Emma snorted a laugh. "Well that's the first thing to figure out. If you do like him and want to go out with him… well, you could ask. You might wait for him to ask, but it's been a decade or so already, so I wouldn't hold my breath."

"Longer than that," Killian said, apparently having finally found his tongue again. "We all went to high school together."

"He liked me in high school?" Mary Margaret cried in shock.

Killian smiled. "I told you. Moment he set eyes on you."

"He was _married_!"

"For a hot second," Emma objected.

"You'd never shown any interest. Katherine did. As Emma says, it obviously didn't work out."

Mary Margaret just stared at the pair, mouth open, completely dumbfounded.

"So…" Emma said, after a moment, "do you like him? Are you going to ask him to the spring dance and wear his letter jacket? He might even take you up to makeout point!"

"Shut up, Swan. Go on, Mary Margaret- do you want to go out with our David?"

Mary Margaret finally closed her mouth. "I…" she said slowly, considering. "I… I do."

The smile came over her face like dawn- slowly at first, almost unnoticeable, until it lit her face and Emma nearly wanted to squint, looking at her.

"Then it seems a pretty simple answer, Lass," Killian said. "Go get him."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Author whistles nonchalantly***

Mary Margaret took a deep breath as she stood on the porch of the Nolan farmhouse and lifted her hand to knock.

Only one moment, maybe two, and David would be standing in front of her and she would say…

Her fist froze an inch above the wood of the door as she realized, to her horror, that she had no idea what to say to him.

''Hi David! It's me, Mary Margaret. You know, from the Inn?"

She could _hear_ Emma rolling her eyes- never mind that Emma was back in town, and that she couldn't read Mary Margaret's thoughts, and that rolling eyes didn't technically make a sound. She could hear it.

But what was she supposed to say? Because for all Emma and Killian had been confident at the Jolly, and for all she'd been pretty sure when she'd gone to speak to Emma, she honestly didn't have any proof that David liked her.

She couldn't be sure that walking into his house and asking him on a date wouldn't end with him laughing her out of town.

Because she would, honestly, be forced to leave town if he rejected her. She couldn't possibly remain in Storybrooke, where everyone would know within hours what had happened, and where she saw him several times a week through their friends and jobs.

No, she'd have to leave and start fresh somewhere else. Farther than Misthaven, she'd have to go to Portland. Boston. New York. Maybe out to California.

What would she even _do_ in California? If she couldn't find work as a chef, she could always go back to teaching, but she thought the requirements for certification were different in each state, so she would have to take classes again.

For that matter, was she still certified to teach in Maine? It had been years since she'd thought about her qualifications for her first career (her _sensible_ career, as her stepmother called it). Should she look into that?

What was she going to say to David when he opened the door?

"Mary Margaret?" a voice said, bringing Mary Margaret's eyes up to the person standing at the front door of the farmhouse on which she still hadn't knocked.

It wasn't David. Of course it wasn't David. It was Ruth Nolan, David's mother, with whom he lived and ran the farm.

"I thought I heard a car pull up," Ruth was saying, even as Mary Margaret's mind raced with this new variable to her problem. "I expected a knock, but I didn't hear one, so I came to check, and there you were. Are you alright, dear?"

"I-yes," Mary Margaret stammered. "I… I suppose I was just lost in thought. I… uh… I came to speak with David… about-" _going on a date, falling in love, getting married, and having loads of babies… where did that come from?_ "-about our order of vegetables for the Inn! We're going to need more…" _what could they possibly need more of?_ "zucchini! Loads more zucchini. Double the order."

Ruth blinked in surprise. "Of course, anything for Granny Lucas. Let's go in and update your order now." She held the door open and gestured Mary Margaret into the house.

"You didn't need to take the trouble of a trip all the way out here," Ruth continued, leading Mary Margaret to a cheerful, sunny room on the south side of the house that was obviously used as an office. "You could have just called."

"It wasn't any trouble," Mary Margaret said. "I was in the neighborhood anyway." She winced even hearing the words come out of her mouth. The Nolan farm was well out of town and near absolutely nothing else. There was no way she could possibly have been _in the neighborhood_ for anything.

"Oh?" Ruth said, and Mary Margaret could feel her face going red. Ruth didn't pursue the obvious lie, however, and Mary Margaret could have kissed her. "Ah, here's the Inn's file," she said, pulling a manila folder out of a small file cabinet. "I'll just update it for the week, shall I?"

Mary Margaret smiled, trying to be pleasant and feeling tense. "Thank you, Ruth. I appreciate it. Um… is David available today? I'd love to speak to him… just to say hi, you know?"

She half-expected Ruth to offer to go with her to find David- it seemed to be how her luck was going- and she had about decided that if that happened, the universe was telling her that she was better-off single anyway.

Ruth, however, just looked up from the file with a sweet smile. "Oh yes," she said. "He's out back in the greenhouse. Do you need me to show-"

"No!" Mary Margaret said quickly. "I'm sure I can find him."

Ruth nodded. "Go on then, dear. I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you."

As Mary Margaret hurried away, she didn't see Ruth's sweet smile grow into a wide, knowing grin.

In the backyard, chickens scattered before Mary Margaret's confident tread. She was _going_ to speak to David. She was _going_ to ask him on a date. If he said no, she was _going_ to be fine.

She was an adult, and she would handle rejection like an adult.

If nothing else, it would give her something to hold over Emma and Killian for awhile. She hadn't noticed David's interest not because she was ignorant, but because there was no interest to notice. Killian and Emma were just being romantics.

Though, a pair of less-likely romantics Mary Margaret could hardly imagine.

Still giving herself this pep-talk, Mary Margaret threw open the door of the greenhouse with, perhaps, a bit more vigor than was necessary, causing it to crash noisily against the glass wall and make her jump.

It would seem she wasn't the only one, when she heard the sound of shattering pottery from inside the warm, damp space and muttered imprecations.

"Is it entirely necessary to slam around like a damned Muppet and- oh!" David's complaints stopped as he came around a corner and got a look at his visitor. "Mary Margaret," he said. "What are you doing here?"

Mary Margaret said nothing, just stood staring open-mouthed at David who had, it was now apparent, been working in his boots, jeans, and nothing else.

Somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind that were still working in the face of this vision, she wondered how she had known David Nolan for nearly thirty years and never known that _that_ was lurking under his flannel shirts and faded jeans.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, lean, and gloriously muscled. His were not the self-consciously chiseled muscles of the committed gym rat, but rather the lean, natural musculature of a man who knew what it was to work. Her mouth watered at the sight.

"Mary Margaret?" David said as she continued to stand speechless. "Are you okay?"

Mary Margaret shut her eyes. "Um… David… would you mind putting on a shirt? I… uh… I need to talk to you and I can't with… with this… happening." She gestured vaguely in his direction without opening her eyes.

Eyes closed, she couldn't see the disappointment cross David's face.

"Sure, Mary Margaret, sorry about that. I'll go grab a shirt. Just a sec."

She stood, listening to him move through the greenhouse and wondered what the hell she was going to say to him when he got back.

She heard his footsteps growing louder again, then they stopped.

"You can open your eyes now, it's safe. You won't see any-"

"I think we should go on a date," Mary Margaret interrupted in a rush, her eyes popping open and taking in the addition of a white undershirt to his ensemble.

"What?" David said, and now it was his turn to stare open-mouthed.

Mary Margaret took a deep breath, determined to say it slower this time.

"I think that we- you and I- should go out… on a date… sometime. If… if you want."

"If I want?" David asked in disbelief.

"Well… Emma and Killian said-"

"You talked to Emma and Killian about this?" David asked, suddenly sounding nervous. "Is this about what happened at Henry's birthday party?"

"What happened at Henry's birthday party?" Mary Margaret asked, frowning.

"When I punched Killian for flirting with you and… And you didn't know anything about that, did you?" David said, watching her face.

"You fought for me?"

David sighed. "I love that you think that, Mary Margaret, but in all honesty, I was an idiot. I punched my best friend for teasing a girl I… anyway… it was actually pretty childish. After that I decided that I needed to stop… well… I just needed to stop."

"Oh," Mary Margaret said, her voice small. "So you _did_ like me, but you don't anymore."

David gave a tired laugh. "It… it doesn't really work like that. You don't just turn that kind of thing on or off like a tap. It's just that… you don't see me the same way I see you, and I need to stop acting like there's a future for us if there isn't."

"David," Mary Margaret said, sharply, making him look up at her.

"Yeah?"

"I just asked you on a date not five minutes ago. Since when isn't there a future for us?"

David's mouth hung open for a long moment in stupefied wonder. "You did, didn't you?" he said, finally.

Mary Margaret nodded.

"And I never answered, did I?"

Mary Margaret shook her head.

"I… I should do that, shouldn't I?"

Mary Margaret nodded again.

"I… would love to go on a date with you, Mary Margaret," David said, a crooked smile growing on his face. "Are you free Thursday?"

An answering smile grew on her face. "Yeah… yeah I think I am."

~?~?~?~?~

_Meanwhile, back at the Jolly Roger_

The lunchtime rush should have kept Killian fully occupied cooking, serving, and keeping up appearances (both positive and negative), and yet he found himself distracted.

He and Graham Humbert had immediately formed a bond upon his return to Storybrooke. They had both expatriated with their families (Humbert with his parents and Killian with Liam) in their teens and lived in the States ever since. They were both fond of a good drink, they both preferred proper football to the American version, they both called fries chips, and they were both fond of pretty women.

The same pretty woman, it would seem.

And yet, in five minutes conversation, Killian found himself questioning five years of friendship.

What could Swan have seen in him? Killian supposed Humbert was good-looking enough, in a slightly scruffy sort of a way. He had a tendency to wear sweater-vests, however. Surely Swan hadn't found that attractive.

"I could wear a sweater vest," he muttered to himself, gathering used dishes from a table and carting them out to the sink in the back. "I'd look perfectly smashing in a sweater vest. Better by far than Humbert."

He'd heard women say that Graham had a sexy accent, but then Killian had heard women say the same about him. Surely the fact that Humbert had a slightly stronger Irish lilt wouldn't count too much in his favor… most Americans couldn't tell the difference anyway.

Could it be the hair? Humbert's was curly and not quite as dark as Killian's. Honestly, he'd looked more like Liam's brother than Killian had, in the end. But surely Swan wasn't so charmed by curls as to lose her senses over them.

Perhaps it was his eyes. Like Neal and Henry, Humbert had dark eyes- perhaps it was that which had so swayed her. Killian had never had cause to curse his own bright blue eyes, but he just might start if that's what it came down to. Henry might have passed as Humbert's son, had things lasted.

And there was Henry, of course. Mary Margaret had said that the sheriff and the lad had been friends. Henry had looked up to Graham, and why shouldn't he? Hard-working civil servant, if one with odd taste in women. Not that Emma was odd taste, but her mum… Killian had only met the woman twice, but both times she'd left him feeling as though he'd been run over by a lorry. And, as Mary Margaret had said, kids loved cops. Not so much restaurant owners, though Henry seemed fond enough of him.

"Jones? Jones!"

Killian broke out of his thoughts finally to find Emma frowning at him from her place at the counter, puzzle still in front of her.

"What?" he snapped, still annoyed with her for reasons he couldn't fully explain even to himself.

Her spine straightened at his tone, suddenly spoiling for a fight.

" _What_ is that you've been slamming around here for thirty minutes, and if you're any harder on your dishes you're going to break something. You've been downright rude- even for you- to your customers, and I think you just growled at Belle while she was paying. What the hell has gotten into you?"

"What's gotten into _me_?" he asked, finally breaking. "What got into you that you dated bloody Graham Humbert?"

"Oh my god, you're still fixated on that? What part of 'I don't want to talk about it' are you and Mary Margaret misunderstanding today? Is it the 'don't'? Do I pronounce it oddly? I. Do. Not. Want. To. Talk. About. Graham!"

"Well I do. What the hell did you see in him?"

"He's your friend!"

"I'm not bloody _dating_ him! Was it his hair? His eyes? It can't bloody be the accent!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I want to know what it is that Humbert has that I don't!"

"Nothing! When did this become a competition?"

"Then why date him and not me?"

"Because he _asked_ , Kil!"

Killian opened his mouth and then closed it, dumbstruck. It suddenly occurred to him that he and Swan had been having this argument out loud (and _loud_ was the word) in the middle of the lunch rush, and it seemed that half of Storybrooke was now watching them, silent and curious, from the diner tables.

Killian's eyes swept the restaurant, and then landed back on Swan, who seemed to be undergoing a similar realization to his own if the rising blush in her cheeks was any indication.

Into the silence, a sound came. A low buzzing of plastic on wood, and Swan reached out to pick up her cell phone from the countertop.

Killian considered reminding her of the no mobiles rule, but knew it would be useless.

"Hello?" she said into the phone, into the silence of the diner. "Yeah? Oh that's great. I'm glad to hear it. No, honestly. Sorry just… got something on my mind. I'll… we'll be able to talk about it later. You can give me all the details then. Sure. Okay, bye."

She slid the phone back into her pocket and, without meeting Killian's eyes said, "Mary Margaret and David have a date on Thursday."

There was a general murmur of approval that rippled through the diner.

"So those two have finally figured things out- what about you two?" someone asked.

"Yeah, Jones. She said all you had to do was ask!"

Killian cocked his head at Emma. He could feel the heat on his cheeks, and thought his ears might spontaneously combust, but he tried to keep his poise nevertheless.

"What do you say, Swan? Are you free Thursday?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Author hides in a cave***


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Why send an adult to do a kid's job?**
> 
>  
> 
> **Quick note: Next week's update will be on Friday as usual, but the following week will be on Wednesday, as I leave at gross o'clock in the morning on Thursday for Vancouver for the Great Fanfiction Adventure (which is what I am just now calling it).**

Emma glared into her cup of coffee. It was, naturally, not nearly as good as if Killian had made it for her, but she couldn't face him or the diner after yesterday.

Frankly, she wondered if she'd ever be able to face them again. Maybe she should just pull her signature move and run.

She knew, of course, that she would do nothing of the sort. Even if Killian would never speak to her again, she loved Storybrooke and the people in it too much to leave. And Henry loved it too- she'd never take him away from the place that had always been his home.

Thinking of him seemed to cause her son to appear.

"Mom? You're up?" He glanced at the clock in surprise. "Then we've got plenty of time for breakfast. Let's go!"

Emma shook her head. "No, Kid, I don't think… we're not… we can't go to the Jolly today."

Henry let out a heavy sigh and threw himself into the chair opposite her, giving her a look that was far older than his years.

"Are you and Killian fighting again? I thought you guys had finally worked things out, and now you're fighting? Are you crazy?"

"No, we're not… not exactly fighting." Emma sighed. It wasn't any good keeping it from him. This was Storybrooke, and they'd had it out in the middle of the Jolly Roger during the lunchtime rush. The fact that Henry didn't know about it yet was testament only to Emma having gotten him home and not allowed him out of the house all night. Once he got to school, he'd know before his first class was over.

"Henry, I need to tell you something," she said, leaning forward on the table to keep his attention. "Killian asked me out on a date yesterday."

Henry blinked, then nodded. "Okay, good. He's in love with you, so that makes sense."

"He- what?" Emma said, shocked. "Killian's in love with me?"

Henry gave her an exasperated, teenage look that told her that she was being very dense about something that he understood far better than she.

She was absolutely not ready for him to be giving her such looks.

"He told me a few weeks ago."

"He… he _told_ you?"

Henry nodded. "I was asking him about girls- how you know if someone is just a friend or if she should be a girlfriend. Like you and Milah. And he said that sometimes you get butterflies for someone and they're a person you should be with, and sometimes you get butterflies and they're a person you shouldn't be with, and sometimes you don't get butterflies, you're just friends with someone and then you realize you fell in love with them. He was talking about you."

Emma wanted to laugh, and she wanted to cry, and she was just a bit surprised at Killian's insight, but Henry was talking again.

"So when are you going out? Will I be staying with Mary Margaret?" he asked.

"Uh… he asked for Thursday, it's your last day of school. And no… Mary Margaret has a date that night too."

"Really?" Henry asked, far more interested in the love-lives of the adults around him than seemed reasonable to Emma. "With who?"

"David. David Nolan."

"Really?" Henry said, this time excited. "That's amazing! It's like someone broke a curse in this town and now everyone is finally getting with their true loves!"

"What?"

"Oh come on, Mom!" And there was that look again, as though she were an idiot. "Even you have to admit that Mary Margaret and David are totally meant for each other."

Emma couldn't help a smile. "Yeah, I think you're right."

"And Mulan and Ruby seem pretty perfect together."

Emma nodded. "They're doing well, that's true."

"And now you and Killian!" Henry said, grinning at his conclusion.

Emma sighed. "Henry…" she said in a warning tone.

"You'll see," he said with a knowing smile. "So will I be staying with Grandma then? She and I could spend the weekend in Boston, that'd be fun!"

Emma knew that her mother would love to have Henry for the weekend. It was, actually, an ideal solution.

"I don't know…" she hedged.

"What do you mean you don't know? You can't go on a date if you don't know what I'm doing. Even I know that's bad parenting."

"I haven't agreed to go on the date yet!"

Henry's eyes went wide and horrified. "You haven't said yes yet? We need to go to the Jolly right now! You need to tell Killian you're going out with him!"

"Henry!" Emma cried as he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of her seat and through the house, grabbing her purse and keys on his way through. "Henry, stop!"

He didn't stop until they were outside the front door, standing beside the Bug.

"Come on, Mom! I'll call Grandma in the car on the way."

"No!" Emma said, sharply. "Let me call her. I'll need to… explain things."

"What?" Henry asked, grinning wickedly. "You don't think 'Mom is finally going on a date with the love of her life' will cover it?"

"Say something like that to your grandmother and I'll cut you up and put you in Killian's hamburger meat."

Henry just grinned as Emma started the Bug.

Once they got to the Jolly, Henry was out of the car before Emma had even set the parking brake, and inside before Emma had it fully locked.

By the time she got inside, he had already got Killian's attention.

"I just wanted to tell you that my mom would love to go on a date with you Thursday," he was saying to a slightly stunned-looking Killian. "It's a half-day at school, so she'll pick me up from there and take me to Misthaven to spend the weekend with my grandmother. The _whole_ weekend," Henry re-emphasized with a grin. "She should be back in time to be ready for you by five, but if you don't want to close up until seven like normal, you guys could go out at seven-thirty." He frowned for a moment, considering this. "Maybe eight-thirty. That'd give you time to change clothes."

"Henry!" Emma cried, embarrassed by her son's tactlessness.

"Anyway, you should take her out to dinner and treat her really well. I'll be mad if you don't okay? My mom's special, so you have to treat her like she's special, got it?"

Killian blinked. "Aye-aye, Henry. As you say."

Henry nodded. "Okay good. I think that's everything." He turned back to Emma. "Is that everything?"

"And then some," she said, wanting to sink into the floor.

Ashley, who was sitting at the counter watching this exchange with absolute fascination slid off her stool and leaned down to whisper something into Henry's ear.

"Good idea," he said, grinning charmingly up at her. "Thanks!" He then turned back to Killian. "Buy her flowers."

This time Killian didn't say anything, he just sketched a military salute to Henry who nodded and left the diner for school.

Once he was out of the diner, Killian glanced around and shook his head.

"Come on, Love," he murmured, taking Emma's arm. "I think enough of this courtship has happened in public. Come with me."

He pulled her, unresisting, into the back kitchen and let the door fall shut behind them.

"I'm sorry," they both said at once, as soon as the door was fully closed.

"I didn't realize Henry was going to put you on the spot like that," Emma explained hastily. "I'd never have let him-"

" _I'm_ the one who put _you_ on the spot yesterday. That wasn't fair of me."

"No, it's fine. It's-"

"Look, if you don't want to, honestly, It's fine."

Emma blinked. "Are you saying you don't want to anymore?"

"What?" Killian said in shock. "No! I'm the one who asked you, remember? But I understand if… I mean it's all been public, and overwhelming, and now Henry's involved-"

"Kil, Henry was always going to be involved. The public thing is… weird, but even that… it's Storybrooke after all. It's not like we were going to be able to keep it to ourselves for long."

"Five minutes might have been nice," Killian muttered.

"That was _your_ fault, Jones, remember?"

He blushed at the reminder. "Right… sorry again. No idea what came over me. So… so are you saying-"

"I'm saying yes, I would like to go on a date with you on Thursday. Okay?"

He grinned. "Okay."

Emma took a deep breath, suddenly feeling giddily happy. "Henry doesn't have to dictate the timing-"

"Where the hell did that come from anyway?"

"Probably Regina. No blood ties, but gods know there could be. Anyway, his timing doesn't have to inform everything, but he is right. I'll need to get him to Misthaven. And tell Regina."

He nodded. "Well the lad hasn't led us astray yet. Might as well go with it. I'll pick you up at your place at eight-thirty?"

Emma took a deep breath and nodded. "What should I wear?"

Killian thought for a moment. "Something nice. The lad told me to treat you right, so I'm going to. Flowers, candles, that kind of thing, right?"

Emma grinned. "Right. Okay."

She bit her lower lip, looking like she was trying to gear herself up for something and then, quick as a flash, she was up on her toes kissing him on the cheek. Before he'd even had a chance to parse out what had happened, she was back on her feet and moving toward the door at the back of the kitchen, out into the alley behind Main Street.

"See you Thursday, Jones."

"Bollocks, Swan. You'll be in tomorrow for your caffeine fix!"

Her laughter seemed to echo through the kitchen, even after the door slammed shut behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Everyone's interested in Emma's love life, but she has too much to do to deal with it right now. This chapter was supposed to have a supplementary one-shot, but it never got off the ground... maybe someday I'll figure it out.**
> 
> **Just a reminder that next week's chapter will be posted on Wednesday because on Friday I'ma be hanging out with the coolest WhoLockGal in the world at the coolest OUAT convention in the world. (It is obviously the coolest OUAT con in the world if for no other reason than WLG and I will be there and I haven't seen her since 2015, and I've missed her. Basically the fact that I didn't hang out with her is the real reason that 2016 was The Worst (TM).)**
> 
> **If any of my readers are also going to be at VanCon next weekend, I'll be the squidgy, specky brunette dressed as a fem!Hook on Saturday. You should probably avoid me because I'm pretty much the least-cool person you have ever encountered.**

Emma sighed as she looked over her schedule for the day. As it was Henry's last day of school, they were letting out right after lunch, which meant Emma was taking a half-day as well to get him out to Misthaven.

It was lovely to have the afternoon and the long weekend spread out in front of her, but it did mean that she had to complete her entire to-do list in half the time she normally had.

She'd only had one cup of coffee that day- made in her own kitchen. No time to stop at the Jolly on her way in (not that she thought she could face Killian before that evening anyway) and no time to get a second in the Inn kitchen since she was pretty sure that her day's first appointment was sitting in the reception area.

"Hi, Dennis? You're here for the handyman interview?" Emma said, approaching the man in the purple beanie sitting on the couch and watching everything going on in the Lobby with surprising attention.

He looked up and smiled dopily at her, nodding.

Emma gave him her courteous, professional smile back. "That's great. I'll be with you in just one moment."

She crossed to the front desk where Ruby was just getting off the phone.

"Big day, isn't it Tiger?" Ruby asked, grinning wolfishly.

"What?" Emma said, distracted. "Oh, right, yeah. No time to think about it now. Do you love me?"

"Desperately," Ruby answered, promptly. "Carnally… or I would, but I have a girlfriend now."

"Great, I- really? You guys have labeled it?" Emma asked, surprised. This was slightly early for Ruby.

"Well… no. I mean… I know what I want but… We should probably talk about that, shouldn't we?"

"Absolutely," Emma said, fervently. "But not while you're on the clock. Anyway, could you grab me a coffee from the kitchen if you get a moment in the next hour?"

"Oh yeah, no problem. Who's short, strong, and silent?"

Emma snorted. "Leroy's little brother. He's a candidate for the handyman position."

Ruby's eyebrows shot up. "You think he can handle it? He doesn't seem… especially bright."

"You know, someone who can keep their mouth shut might be pretty novel around here."

"Novel, maybe, but far less interesting. Honestly, Emma, are you sure about him?"

Emma sighed. "Granny and I have spent most of a month drawing up a provisional contract. He'll have three months in which he can leave or we can let him go for basically any reason, then he'll be given the chance to sign on for a full year. We're starting him with room 501."

"I thought Leroy got it up and running last month?"

Emma laughed. "It's down again. The window now, not the plumbing. It can't be closed. Anyway, coffee?"

Ruby gave a smart salute. "Aye-aye, captain."

Emma gathered her files and returned to Dennis on the sofa. He smiled at her again, sweet and slightly vacant.

"Dennis Little, I'm Emma Swan. Leroy said you don't speak, is that right?"

Dennis nodded and shrugged apologetically.

"That's fine. Do you sign at all? I don't honestly know any sign language, but I might be able to pick up a few things."

Dennis held up his fingers to indicate "a little bit," and cocked his head.

"You've mostly lived with your brothers, Leroy said- I take it they mostly understand you?"

He nodded vigorously.

"And you'd be moving in with Leroy here in town then?"

Another nod.

"Hopefully that'll cheer him up a bit. He's a reputation for being a bit grumpy."

Dennis grinned at her and nodded again, and Emma couldn't help but smile back.

"Alright, so I want to be sure you understand- this first contract is for three months. If at any time during the course of these three months, you want to leave, or we ask you to leave, that's fine. You might not be a good fit for us, and we might not be a good fit for you, no harm, no foul, right?"

Dennis nodded, face going serious again.

"Good. After that, if we all agree, you can sign a contract for a year. During that year you won't be able to take competing jobs, and you'll be on-call for maintenance work, but also for other work around the building and grounds. Sometimes we have events that need extra hands, sometimes the landscaping crew is down a man- here at Enchanted, we all try to pitch in together. Does that make sense?"

He nodded again.

"Are you comfortable with all of that? You wouldn't need to be a waiter or anything if you don't want- setup and break-down and that kind of thing would be fine for the events. I think the only job you would be fully unqualified for is the front desk- it does require phone work and customer interaction. Sorry about that."

Dennis just shrugged, indicating that it didn't really bother him.

"Alright, that's good. Are you okay with the three-month contract, the salary, and the terms? You've read through the copy we sent you Monday?"

He nodded and smiled, picking up a pen and cocking his head at her in a silent request for permission.

"Go ahead," Emma said, indicating the contract on the table in front of him.

He signed with a flourish- his handwriting was beautiful- and looked up at her again with another bright smile.

Emma extended a hand to him with a matching smile. "Welcome aboard, Dennis. Want to see your first challenge?"

He nodded enthusiastically and followed as Emma led him toward the hallway to the guestrooms.

Emma continued her patter about the Inn and its facilities, trying to be sure to say everything that might need to be said, knowing that her listener would not be able to ask questions easily- at least not ones she would be able to understand.

"And this is room 501," she said, arriving at the door. "It's been closed for a bit- the window is stuck open. We've covered it in plastic to keep the weather out, but it needs to be fixed before we can have people in here. We thought you could take a look at it today- you don't have to fix it immediately, since you don't have your tools or anything, but it'll give you an idea of the kinds of things you might run into around here, you know?"

She glanced back to find Dennis nodding along with her and smiled. She opened the door and gestured him into the room.

The Enchanted Inn's rooms were each unique- antique furniture from Jeff's store, paintings from local artists, and specific decorative touches chosen by Granny, Ruby, and Emma personally, they were much more than hotel rooms. They were, to begin, generally larger than hotel rooms, with space not only for a bed and a desk, but a small sitting area with a TV in an armoire and a bookshelf stocked with recommendations from the local library.

Room 501 had been one of Ruby's first rooms to influence, and so it was decked in her signature color- a warm, burgundy coverlet, several rugs in shades of flame and russet, and curtains that were just the color of the setting sun that could be seen out the window in the evenings. The picture on the wall was of a fierce-looking black wolf that Ruby had fallen half-in-love with at an art festival in Misthaven several years before.

Dennis appeared mostly uninterested in the aesthetics, however, and had crossed straight to the plastic-covered window to examine it.

"If you need anything, you can write it down and we'll be sure you have it," Emma said, crossing to the desk and opening drawers, looking for the pad of Enchanted Inn letterhead that was always provided. It wasn't there however.

"Okay," she said, annoyed. "I don't have any paper for you just now. I'll go grab you a notebook, is that okay?"

Dennis didn't look away from the problem window as he nodded and waved a hand at her, that Emma interpreted to say that he would be fine on his own. She hoped she was correct and that she eventually got better at reading his gestures.

"Alright, I'll be back in a minute. Don't… don't go anywhere, okay?"

Dennis didn't even deign to dignify that with a response.

Emma left him to his work and hurried off to the main office where they kept the extra letterhead pads. Granny was in there, glaring at her computer with her glasses perched on the end of her nose, as though her scowl could make the numbers on her screen do what she wanted them to do.

"Hi Granny," Emma said as she came in and started shuffling boxes aside to find the one with the letterhead. "Working on the books?"

"I am," Granny answered, sounding relieved to have something to distract her. She leaned back in her chair, removed her glasses, and watched Emma.

"You know I'll do it as soon as I get a moment-" Emma began, only to be cut off by a harumph from Granny.

"You'll do nothing of the sort. I'll remind you that I haven't retired yet. Once I do, you and Ruby can do as you like with the finances, but until that time I am old, not dead."

Emma shook her head. "I never said that you were."

Granny humphed again, then watched Emma for a moment. "How are _you_ doing today, my dear?"

Emma looked up, half-surprised. "I'm fine," she said, giving her boss a smile. "Got Leroy's little brother signed up as handyman for the next three months."

She reached into her folder and handed the signed contract over to Granny who examined it.

"Dennis Little… that's the youngest one. The one who doesn't speak anymore, right?"

"Yeah," Emma said. "Anymore?"

"He used to talk and be quite normal, back when the eight of them were young."

"Eight?" Emma asked, frowning. "Leroy told me he had six brothers."

"And so he does, now. Dennis stopped talking after the eldest died." Granny sighed. "He was always a sweet boy, Dennis. Not especially clever, and by no means a dreamer like Leroy was. He wasn't exactly simple, even when he stopped speaking, he was just… uncomplicated."

Emma didn't comment on the fact that "simple" and "uncomplicated" were essentially the same thing and questioned the far stranger statement instead.

"Leroy? Our Leroy? A dreamer?"

Granny laughed. "You wouldn't think it to know him now, but yes. He was a sweet little boy with his head in the clouds once." She shook her head, her smile suddenly tinged with slight sadness. "But of course, things change."

For a moment, Granny seemed lost in thought, and Emma was afraid to move, worried that to do so would jar her. Then Granny blinked, shook her head, and brought her eyes back to Emma.

"But I was actually asking about you. I understand you've quite the evening planned, and the whole weekend off to spend with your young man."

"Oh." Emma looked away, blushing slightly. "I wasn't really planning on spending the whole weekend with him, and he's not my young man. This is our first date."

Granny snorted. "You and the Jones boy have been practically inseparable since he came back to town. Dating is a formality, though one that's a long time coming."

"Granny… It's not… We're not-"

Emma was interrupted by Ruby bursting into the office.

"Oh good, you're here," she said, gasping as though she'd been running. "I've been looking for you, Em."

"Have you got coffee for me?" Emma asked, hopefully.

"Um… no. I went to the kitchen to get you some and… well… there's a bit of a problem."

Emma straightened to attention immediately. "Is someone hurt? Mary Margaret?"

She was transported back, briefly, to a moment some four years before when, just weeks after Liam's funeral, she had stood by Killian's hospital bed after he'd sliced open his hand in the Jolly's kitchen. They'd become friends in the last year of Liam's life, but after his death, Killian had pushed everyone away. Emma hadn't asked then, and she didn't want to know now, but she was fairly sure that he'd been drinking when it had happened.

Mary Margaret would never be so careless, but that wasn't to say that her staff might not be. Besides, even the best could make mistakes.

"No, nothing like that," Ruby assured her. "Everyone's fine, it's just… well… you're going to have to see this."

Emma followed her out of the office, leaving Granny behind with her figures.

When they reached the kitchen, it became clear what the issue was. Mary Margaret's large kitchen island appeared to be completely subsumed by a pile of green vegetables.

"What happened?" Emma cried, bringing the attention of the entire kitchen onto her. She noticed that Mary Margaret's face was red, and the rest of the staff appeared deeply amused. "Why do we have this much zucchini?" she asked, her voice changing from shock worry to suspicion.

"Well…" Mary Margaret began, not meeting Emma's eyes. "Well…" she said again, the flush rising in her cheeks.

"Mary Margaret, get on with it!" Emma said, warningly.

"The day that I went out to the Nolan's? To ask David out? I… uh… ran into Ruth first and… well… I needed an excuse to be out there, didn't I?"

Emma bit her lower lip hard to keep from smiling- she could see where this was going. "I suppose telling her that you'd come to steal away her darling boy wouldn't have cut it, would it?" she said, not quite able to keep the teasing edge out of her voice.

"It would not," Mary Margaret said, primly.

"So you told her to… what? Give us all of the zucchini she had?"

Mary Margaret blushed again. "Just double our order," she muttered, staring at the ground.

Emma couldn't hold off anymore, she burst out laughing, joined by the rest of Mary Margaret's kitchen staff and Ruby.

Once they'd finally calmed down, Emma wiped her eyes and wrapped an arm around Mary Margaret's shoulders.

"I'm sorry… sorta. Can any of it be frozen?"

Mary Margaret shrugged her arm off, irritably, and sent a scowl to the still-grinning staff surrounding her.

"Yes, it can, but we'll still need to make some updates to the menu. I want zucchini bread and muffins for breakfast all weekend, the soup of the day tonight will need zucchini, and add parmesan-fried zucchini chips or fries to the appetizer options."

Emma stepped back beside Ruby as Mary Margaret exorcised her embarrassment on her staff who responded good-naturedly. Mary Margaret wasn't known for losing her temper, and most them had thought that something similar would be the best way of dealing with things anyway.

"Any idea where David's taking her tonight?" Emma asked Ruby as the pair watched the pile of vegetables get portioned out to different sections of the kitchen like an episode of Iron Chef. Emma was under no illusions about why her best friend was so jumpy.

"He invited her out to his place," Ruby said, a wicked grin replacing the amused one from moments before.

Emma turned to Ruby in surprise. "Really? Seems quick for them."

Ruby snorted. "The pair of them have been together in all-but name for twenty years. But no, apparently it's not like that, at least according to her. They just didn't want to spend their first date being watched by their neighbors, so they didn't want to go anywhere in Storybrooke. They also didn't want to go as far out as Misthaven, so David invited her over to the farm for dinner."

"Hmmm," Emma said, thoughtfully. "I'll give him the benefit of the doubt that he's not being sketchy."

"It's David," Ruby said.

"Which is why I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt. Anyone else and I'd tell her not to go. Where's Ruth going to be, do you suppose?"

"Here, actually," Ruby said with a shrug. "Granny invited her to the poker game. But what about you? Do you know what the plans are for you tonight? You know, other than that he has to buy you flowers and treat you like you're special because you are."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Between Henry and Killian, I'm never going to get a moment of privacy again, am I?"

Ruby shrugged. "It'll probably die down eventually. I hear Belle's seeing someone from out of town, so maybe that'll be the next big thing. Where's he taking you though?"

"No idea. I'm sure it's not a secret since he probably made reservations, but the answer hasn't gotten back to me, and he won't tell me."

Mary Margaret joined them, the worst of her irritation burned off by work and plans, and her normally sweet temper reasserting itself.

"Are you excited for tonight?" Emma asked with a grin.

Mary Margaret blinked as though unsure what Emma was talking about, and then shook her head as though to clear it.

"Every time I think about it I get light-headed," she said with a grimace.

"She's excited," Ruby translated with a grin. "What are you wearing? No, wait, let me guess. The blue cardigan set, right? Or the pink one?"

Mary Margaret's face flamed, and she looked away from them muttering something that had both Emma and Ruby leaning in to hear.

"Sorry, didn't catch that," Ruby said.

"I said," Mary Margaret said louder, a slight groan in her voice, "that I just bought a white set with pearl buttons and thought I might wear that one."

Both Emma and Ruby started laughing again, prompting Mary Margaret to shoot yet another irritated glare at the pair of them.

"Haven't you two got _jobs_ to be doing?" she asked, once the two girls had finally calmed. "Emma, you're leaving at noon, surely you don't actually have time to be annoying me and disrupting my kitchen."

"Crap," Emma said, finally remembering herself. "I still have to deal with Dennis."

She took off out of the kitchen without another word, leaving Mary Margaret and Ruby standing bemusedly behind.

"She still hasn't had a second cup of coffee today either," Ruby mused as she took her own leave of Mary Margaret.

Back in room 501, Emma found Dennis sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling vacantly into the middle distance. As she entered, he stood and grinned at her, gesturing toward the window, from which he had pulled the plastic and was now closed.

"Wow!" Emma said crossing over to the window and opening, then re-closing it, admiring how it moved smoothly now. "That's amazing. I'd ask what was wrong with it but…"

Dennis grinned and shrugged.

"Well, thank you. I think this is going to work out really well, Dennis."

Emma sighed. One task down, a dozen more to go. And she still hadn't decided what she was wearing on her date tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Some of you may have noticed that the chapter count has gone up. That's not because I re-wrote the story (as some of you would apparently like) but because I decided to stop second-guessing myself and break up the chapters where I think they need to be broken, rather than worrying overmuch about keeping a somewhat consistent wordcount.**
> 
> **So Sunday's twist makes me want to jump forward about a zillion years in this story and get to my version of that thing that happened, but I'm afraid I won't be doing that- you'll all have to slow-burn with me, whether you like it or not! *laughs evilly***
> 
> **(That said, if you're wondering, at the point I've written to, things have FINALLY started to get... well... _satisfying_ , so there's that to look forward to!)**

David had known Killian Jones for almost twenty years and he'd never seen the man in a state like this.

When he'd first arrived in Storybrooke, Killian had been the consummate ladies' man- he could charm and flirt and tease seemingly without prejudice, while never crossing the line into annoying. The girls had loved him, and the guys had tolerated him, though he'd grown on them too after awhile.

David had eventually learned that the bluster had been hiding a boy still reeling from the death of his mother and a move halfway across the globe, but that insight had come years later.

There'd been a brief gap when they'd gone to different colleges and Killian had put Storybrooke to his heels for a time. By the time he'd come back, his innocence and charm had been replaced with cynicism and sarcasm, and Liam's death had only deepened those dark and cold feelings

It had taken years and the love of the entire town as well as the much more concentrated (heretofore platonic) affections of Emma and Henry Swan to help Killian find his innocence and joy again.

David couldn't be happier for his old friend, even as Killian's hand shook as he poured David's coffee, splashing it onto the counter.

"Stop smirking at me," Killian snapped, wiping the coffee up with a swipe of his towel.

"She's not going to come by at this point, you can quit jumping every time you hear the bell over the door," David said.

"I'll tear the bloody thing off," Killian muttered as he went to take a drink order from the customer who had just walked in.

David turned to watch him move through the diner as he sipped his coffee. Twenty years, and David had never seen Killian nervous about a woman. David hadn't known Milah when she and Killian had first met, but when she'd come back he hadn't been nervous, he'd mostly been conflicted.

"I just don't understand why you're so jumpy," David said once Killian was back behind the counter. "You and Emma have known each other for years. You two hang out together constantly- this isn't any different!"

Killian smacked the knife he'd been using down on the counter and lifted his bright eyes to David's, face hard.

"It is different, David, and saying it isn't is bloody stupid. It's different because everything is different between us now, no matter whether this thing goes well or not- Emma didn't come to the diner this morning for her coffee. I watched her drop Henry off and drive out of town to the Inn without stopping. Because things are _different_ now." He shook his head and sighed. "If I'm lucky and tonight goes well, it'll be a good different, and hopefully she'll come back. If not…" His jaw clenched. "If not… Emma and Henry are the most important, most successful relationship I've had in my entire life. I don't know what I'd do if I lost them."

Killian shook his head again and returned to his slicing. "Why aren't you nervous then?" he asked after a moment.

David shrugged. "I have faith. I _believe_ that Mary Margaret and I are meant to be together. Besides, I have the perfect plan for the night."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You know how Mary Margaret is always doing for everyone else?"

"Aye, it's one of her main personality traits."

"Well tonight is all for her. She doesn't get to lift a finger." David glared at Killian's sudden grin. "Not like that you pervert."

"Well why not? You'd be showing her a good time if you did," Killian leered.

"If that's your plan for the night with Emma, no wonder you're nervous. She won't react well to that."

Killian's face went pale in an instant.

"God no," he said. "She'd eviscerate me, and Liam would come back from the grave to help her do it. Besides that, it's too soon."

"And her son told you to treat her like she's special," David reminded him.

Killian snorted. "Henry's a clever lad, but I didn't need his advice in that matter."

"Where are you taking her?" David asked.

"I don't see how that's anyone's business but mine and the proprietor of the restaurant," Killian said, primly.

"This is Storybrooke, Kil. It's not going to be secret for long, especially if you have reservations."

Killian sighed. "We're going to Smee's," he said, referring to a seafood restaurant near the marina.

David's eyebrows shot up. "Really? I thought he closed at 9. You closing up early tonight?"

Killian shook his head. "Smee owes me several favors. He's keeping the place open for us, so we'll have a… relatively private supper. Bit like you and your lovely lady avoiding town all together."

"What do you have over Smee?" David asked, surprised. Smee was a secretive man, and no one seemed to know much about him- an unusual trait in a town like Storybrooke.

Killian smiled. "That is between him and me, and one of the reasons that he owes me is that no one else knows. Unlike so many of the good people of Storybrooke, _I_ can keep a secret."

"Says the man who asked out Emma Swan in front of the entire town because he was jealous of a five-year-finished relationship."

Killian's face went pink. "Yes well… Swan has an impressive ability to get under my skin."

"What were you _thinking_ though? You've known them both for ages… how does it change anything that they dated?"

Killian raised an eyebrow. "This from a man who has waited thirty years to ask out the love of his life, a fact that did not stop him punching his best friend-"

"Since when are you my best-"

"His _best friend_ ," Killian continued, raising his voice over David's objections, "for merely _flirting_ with her."

"Have you talked to Graham about this?" David asked, rapidly changing the subject. "Made sure you're not violating some 'bro code'?"

"Like you, Sheriff Humbert showed up here this morning. He informed me that if I do anything that the lovely Miss Swan finds objectionable, he will find a way to have me deported back to England. He informed me that he likes Emma far better than he likes me, awkward dating stories notwithstanding. I have heard variations on that theme all morning- it's as though no one in this town has better to do than come threaten my life, my livelihood, or my manly bits should I make free with the honor of the lady."

"I'm not sure it's her honor people are worried about," David said. "She's an adult and a mother, after all. I'm pretty sure it's her heart we'd see you run out on a rail over."

"Not you too," Killian groaned. "Are you telling me you would also choose Emma over me?"

David grinned and took a sip of his coffee. "In a heartbeat, Jones. In a heartbeat."

"I'm wounded, Dave. You've stabbed me through the heart."

David only continued to smile.

Killian sighed. "Honestly though, you know I'd be first in line to see any bastard who hurt her or Henry slowly tortured, even if the bastard was me."

"Which is why this conversation is happening over coffee, not the barrel of a shotgun."

"Are you her father now?"

David shrugged. "If that's what it takes to get you to listen to me, why not?"

"David-" Killian began, his voice serious.

"I know," David interrupted. "Trust me, I get it. I know how you feel about her, and I trust you, but I wouldn't be doing my job as her friend or as yours not to tell you to be careful. I know what she means to you."

Killian nodded, not quite able to speak to that. After a moment, however, he looked up from his work.

"Speaking of women whose hearts we're not allowed to break, under pain of torture and exile, what are your plans for our dear Mary Margaret this evening?"

"My mother has already made it quite clear what will happen to me if I so much as say the wrong word to Mary Margaret," David assured him. "As for what we're doing, I'm making her dinner at the farm."

Killian went still. " _You're_ making dinner?" he asked.

"Of course!" David said. "I told you, I'm not letting her do anything."

"Yeah, you said that, but that doesn't mean you have to cook. I'd make you a picnic or something if you wanted."

"No way," David insisted. "This is important- she's known me forever, she knows I'm her friend and I'll take care of her, now I have to impress her with my domestic skills. I need to prove I'm the whole package- all this and he's a great cook too!"

"A _great_ cook?" Killian asked, skeptically.

"You love my cooking!"

"I _tolerate_ your cooking because I don't have a television to watch the games on. Mary Margaret is a chef, Dave."

"You're a chef!"

"I run a greasy spoon with no formal training whatsoever. Mary Margaret graduated from the Cordon Bleu. Honestly, Dave-"

"Honestly, Kil, I have it under control. This is going to be great- romantic, comfortable, and perfect."

Killian opened his mouth as though to argue further, but suddenly went tense and still, his eyes locked on something out the front window. David turned to look and saw Emma's yellow Bug trundling up the street past the Jolly Roger.

David glanced at his watch. "School's nearly out. She's off to pick up Henry and take him to Misthaven." He turned back to Killian who remained tense, though less statue-like now that the Bug had vanished from the window. "You gonna make it, buddy?" David asked.

"Only eight and a half hours to go," Killian muttered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Happy Friday, Dearies!**

"We got the classroom cleaned up early, so Mrs. Williams took us out to the playground and we got icy pops," Henry explained as Emma drove them out of town.

"And let me guess," Emma said, beginning to smile, "yours was blue."

Henry looked at her in surprise. "How'd you know?"

Emma pointed to the visor mirror. "Take a look, Kid."

Henry pulled the mirror down to find that his lips, teeth, and tongue were all dyed blue.

"There's some wet wipes in the glove compartment. Use one so your grandmother doesn't think I've been strangling you."

Henry wiped his face with one of the towels, depositing blue dye on the white surface. Once he looked slightly less hypoxic, he turned to give his mother a shrewd look.

"What'd you tell Grandma about tonight?"

"What do you mean? I told her you wanted to go to Boston for the weekend, and did she want to take you."

"Did you tell her you have a date?"

Emma pressed her lips together for a moment. "I don't see how it could possibly matter to your grandmother."

"Mom!" Henry groaned.

"Henry!" Emma echoed back.

"When I'm twenty-nine, are you going to want me to tell you when I go on a date?" Henry asked, crossing his arms and glaring at her.

"No chance you're going to be single at 29, Kid, and whatever you're up to with your significant other will be entirely your own business."

" _Mom_."

"Fine! Yes I'll want to know who you're dating and when until you're old and grey, and I'll tell Regina about Killian when we get there. Are you happy?"

Henry smiled. "Yup," he said, reaching forward to tune the radio.

Emma frowned as she considered what to tell her mother. She could play it cool, maybe just tell her mother that she had dinner plans with a friend, and it was Mary Margaret who had a proper date. Regina had met Killian a time or two, she couldn't possibly think-

"You should wear that pink dress that Mary Margaret gave you last year tonight," Henry said.

"Wha?"

"It makes you look like a princess and you never wear it. I told Killian he had to treat you like you're special, but he's special too, Mom."

"You know, I'm amazed at how okay you are with this, Kid. I mean… you've always kind of wanted your dad and I to be together…"

Henry shrugged. "I'd like that, but he's with Tamara now. And you like Killian better than you like Dad."

Emma opened her mouth to dispute the claim- of _course_ she liked Henry's dad- except that she made it a policy to lie to Henry as infrequently as possible, and the truth was that most of the time she simply _didn't_ like Neal anymore.

"Up until now, Kil and I have only been friends..." Emma began.

"Mom, if he and Dad were trapped in a burning building and you only had time to save one, which one would you save?" Henry asked.

"You, Kid," Emma answered without hesitation. "I'd save you."

Henry let out an annoyed sigh. "I'm already safe, you're not playing the game right!"

"Well what about you then. If it were me or your video game system, which would you save from the burning building?"

Henry scrunched up his face as though thinking hard. "Well I can pick up the XBox, I can't pick you up…"

"Hey!" Emma cried which made Henry giggle.

Easily distracted as he was, he began telling her about the newest level in his video game and Emma put her concerns about the evening out of her mind as she listened to him talk. By the time they pulled into Regina's drive, Emma felt calmer than she had in several days- practically since Killian had asked her out, in fact.

Regina had clearly been waiting for them, and she came down the walk even as Emma set the parking brake. Henry was out of the Bug and rushing into his grandmother's arms before Emma had unbuckled her seatbelt and as she got out of the car, Henry was talking.

"And we had our last spelling test, and a review of the last history chapter, but those didn't take long. Then we all worked to clean up the classroom and had popsicles."

"And did you get your final grades?" Regina asked.

"No, they're mailing those out," Henry answered.

"Two weeks," Emma said, pulling the bag Henry had packed for the weekend out of her trunk.

"You'll let me know how he did?" Regina asked.

"Of course," Emma said with a smile, crossing to her mother and son. "Thanks for taking him this weekend, I think this'll be lots of fun."

"Yes, I think it will. Do you have plans for the weekend since you're on your own?" Regina asked.

Emma opened her mouth to answer, but Henry beat her to it.

"Mom has a date tonight!"

Regina's eyebrows shot up even as Emma rolled her eyes to the heavens as though asking for celestial assistance. She shoved her son's bag into his arms.

"Go put your stuff in your room, you little snitch," she said, to which he only grinned and vanished into the house.

"A date?" Regina said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You didn't mention that when you asked me to take him for the weekend."

Emma sighed. "I didn't want you thinking I was trying to pawn him off so I could have… a weekend with a guy or something. Yes, I have a date tonight, but _just_ tonight. The weekend away was honestly his idea."

Regina snorted. "I've no concerns about your virtue at your age. For that matter, I wasn't terribly worried about it when you were 15."

Emma shrugged. "That ship had sailed before we met."

"Regardless," Regina continued, "you know I'm always happy to take Henry. Who is this date with? Anyone I know?"

"You've met him. Killian? He's been a friend of ours for awhile. He runs the diner on the square?"

"Ah yes," Regina said after a moment of thought, nodding. "He's very good with Henry and gives you grief about your coffee habit, right?"

Emma smiled slightly. "Yeah, that's Jones."

"Mmmm, he's very fond of you. I noticed that the last time I met him."

Emma shifted uncomfortably. "He's a friend. He's always been a friend."

"Yes, a friend who has asked you on a date and for whom you are getting rid of your son for a weekend," Regina mused, a light of mischief in her eyes.

"Mother," Emma complained.

"I'm not saying it's a problem!" Regina said, throwing her nicely-manicured hands into the air and smiling. "I like that you're dating, Emma. You've spent too long alone. As long as it isn't Graham, anyway."

Emma said nothing, just raised a single dubious eyebrow at her.

"What? I wasn't any more comfortable with the situation than you were!" Regina cried.

Emma shrugged. It was true after all, and their mutual shock and discomfort had actually been a bonding point there in those early days.

"Sidney's just put on a pot of coffee inside. Do you need to leave to get ready, or do you have time for a cup?" Regina asked.

"Oh, he's not picking me up until 8:30. If I go home now I'll-"

"Fret," Regina said succinctly.

"I wouldn't _fret_ ," Emma objected. " _Fretting_ is what a character in a Jane Austen novel does. I would just…"

"Pace aimlessly, talk yourself into and out of going a dozen or so times, and wind up with a huge pile of discarded outfits on your bed?" Regina suggested.

"That last one is going to happen regardless."

"Naturally," Regina agreed. "Well come in and have some coffee if you have the time then. Maybe you'll only talk yourself out of going three times if you stay here for a few minutes. I should, perhaps have had Sidney make decaf."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I know you're all getting tired of waiting for this story to finally get to the point, but I promise, the next four chapters are all much longer and much more action-oriented. Personally, this show always makes me wish for domestics so perhaps I overcompensate in this story. That said, for those of you still enjoying it, I love you and appreciate every one of you!**
> 
> **I always feel like I need to issue a warning when Emma is also going to display some of my own neuroses, particularly when I've recently discovered this one is apparently a point of contention in the fandom?**
> 
> **In general, Emma wears clothes in a similar way to me- relatively form-fitting, but covering as much skin as possible. Seeing her in the "date dress" actually made me uncomfortable knowing how uncomfortable I'd have found wearing that dress. I understand that there is a school of thought that says that Emma was showing her "real self" by wearing that dress, and I definitely can understand that interpretation, but as I am writing from my own perspectives on things, with my own mental illness gremlins colouring that perspective, you get this interpretation instead.**
> 
> **Sorry?**
> 
> **Oh... and sorry for the cliffhanger at the end too. Like I say, next week will be better.**
> 
> **Happy reading!**

Showered and wrapped in a towel with her hair damp over her shoulders, Emma ran her fingers across the clothes hung up in her closet, letting her skin tell her which garment was under her hand as she unfocused her eyes. She stopped on one- the slightly-cool touch of butter-soft leather. Her mind's eye filled in the flame color of her favorite jacket and she allowed her eyes to focus again.

She'd been tense for days- nervous and jumpy- and normally that would mean that she would reach for this jacket like a security blanket.

Emma had only been in Storybrooke for three days when Granny had worked out that she'd arrived with nothing but the car and the clothes on her back. Granny had given her an advance on her first paycheck and sent her to the local thrift store for essentials.

The jacket hadn't been essential in the traditional sense, but from the moment Emma had tried it on and felt the odd, armor-like protection it had seemed to provide against a world that had become ever more frightening and dangerous, she had known she needed it.

She'd worn it nearly every day of that first year, even over her maid's uniform at the Inn. Granny had said nothing about this dress violation, as though she understood. Only the day her water broke while she'd been showering had Emma left it behind, but Granny had brought it to her in the hospital the next day as she'd held Henry and wondered what the hell she was going to do now.

In the years since, she had slowly taken to wearing it less and less, save in moments of deepest stress, or when it would suit her outfit particularly.

She continued to finger the sleeve of the jacket- technically it was too warm to wear it, and she didn't need armor with Killian ( _maybe if she kept telling herself, she'd finally start to believe it_ ), but it would be comforting to go into the unknown while wearing it. It was a matter of security, she supposed.

Emma pulled the jacket off the hanger and tossed it onto the bed, then dug for what she could use as the rest of her outfit. In the back of her closet hung three rarely-worn dresses- one sleek and black, one slinky and red, and one soft and pink. This last was the one Henry had recommended she wear.

She sighed and tossed all three onto the bed before considering her closet again. She didn't have very many skirt-and-blouse combinations, and most of those were geared more toward the business professional she tried to be during the workweek, rather than her more casual "weekend persona."

She considered slacks or jeans and decided against- Henry had insisted that she treat the evening and Killian as though they were special, and that seemed to call for a dress.

Emma turned back to her closet, this time bending down to dig through her shoes. With the red dress she generally wore a pair of matching red heels that would, she was pretty sure, put her nearly as tall as Killian. For the black dress, she thought a pair of boots that were old favorites with a wedge heel and a sexy, slightly-dangerous look. With the pink dress, Emma was more lost- she'd never worn the thing before and wasn't sure what to wear with it. Digging into the back of her closet, she found a pair of nude pumps that looked like she might have borrowed them from Mary Margaret at some point and decided that those would do.

She pushed herself to her feet and glared at her three options. She, personally, liked the black option best, but as had been pointed out to her several times recently, it'd been a long time since she'd done this, and her instincts were rusty. She needed advice.

Emma carefully arranged the three outfits with accessories and shoes on the bed, then snapped a picture that she sent to a group text chat she, Mary Margaret, and Ruby kept running constantly.

_Need an outfit for tonight and can't decide. Help!_

As she waited for her friends to respond, Emma dug through her underwear drawer. The nice thing about all three of the dresses was that she wouldn't need a strapless bra, though she wondered if she shouldn't wear something _pretty_ , just in case.

"I am not having sex with Killian Jones tonight," she muttered. The fact that she wouldn't have added that final qualifier a week ago made her stomach knot, though it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Her phone went off twice in succession, distracting her from this thought.

_Pink_ , was Mary Margaret's succinct response.

Ruby was, typically, wordier and more nuanced.

_X rd- fine 4 Tinder bty call bad 4 1st date w bff. C other 2 on?_

Emma snorted at Ruby's text speak, but put the red dress away even as her phone sounded again.

_Do pink last so you don't have to change again when I'm right_ , Mary Margaret said, grammar as perfect as one could expect from an ex-grade-school-teacher, even on the tiny screen of a phone.

Emma rolled her eyes but did as she was told, wriggling into the black dress, boots, and jacket, then taking a photo in front of the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door.

_No makeup or hair yet- be gentle_ , she sent with the photo.

_Don't be silly. You're always beautiful_ , Mary Margaret shot back almost immediately.

Emma couldn't help but smile. Mary Margaret was, if nothing else, a single vote of confidence.

_Rock n roll_ , was Ruby's contribution.

Emma stepped out of the black number and into the pink, the fuller skirt of the latter seeming to float around her. It was, she thought as she angled herself for the picture, a very pretty dress.

_You look like a princess, Emma!_ Mary Margaret enthused.

_Agreed. Pinks #1_ , Ruby added.

_Aren't you glad you did that one second?_ Mary Margaret said.

_Smug much?_ Emma asked.

_O:-)_ was Mary Margaret's only answer.

_Pt hair up. Show off ur swan neck_ , Ruby suggested.

_Good idea! Send pics before you go!_ Mary Margaret said.

Regretfully, Emma put away her jacket and black dress and dug out her straightener to pull her hair into a sleek tail. She noticed, after a moment, that she was applying her eye makeup perhaps a bit more dramatically than was normal for her. She considered starting over, but shook her head to herself- if she was to be allowed no other shield- both hair and jacket denied to her- she would take what she'd been left. An extra layer or two of mascara didn't hurt anyone.

Finally, Emma stood in front of her mirror, approving her own look before she sent her last selfie to Ruby and Mary Margaret. The latter would not, she knew, respond as she had sent a shot of her own outfit nearly an hour before (knee-length black skirt, white tank top and cardigan combo), but she had promised.

_Will I knock his socks off?_ She asked with her photo attached.

_100%_ , Ruby assured her. _Dnt do NEthing i wdnt do._

_Like what?_ Emma asked, not able to think of anything, personally.

_Will thnk nd gt bk 2 u. Knock m ded._

Emma sighed and turned in front of the mirror. She could acknowledge that she looked amazing, but she still glanced wistfully at her closet where her red jacket hung. It would clash with the pink of her dress but still… she might have time to change into the outfit she'd preferred. Mary Margaret and Ruby need never know…

Even as the thought crossed her mind, a knock from her front door made her jump. Emma did one last spin in front of the mirror, a not-entirely unpleasant anxiety prickling up her bare arms, then she scooped up her shoes to avoid tripping over her feet on the way downstairs and, with a final longing glance at her jacket in the closet, went down to answer the door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**Finally** _

Killian forced himself to take long, deep breaths as he stood on the porch of the Swan house, hoping that doing so would calm his racing heart.

It seemed an age between his knock and a single sound behind the door- an age in which his heart beat double-time and he wondered if he wouldn't simply faint from nerves. When Henry was in residence, a knock on this door generated shouts and the pounding of young feet across the floors. Without Henry, however, there was no sound in response to his knock until the knob turned and the door opened to reveal Emma to him for the first time.

She stood before him in a delicate pink dress, just a shade off from the skin of her shoulders and collarbones, both of which were on display. His gaze traveled from the top of her blonde head, over her shoulders and the sweet dip of cleavage, to her narrow waist circled by a belt the same color as the dress, over the full skirt and her hand which held a pair of shoes, to her bare feet, then back up to meet her eyes, which were peering at him through a fringe of dark lashes.

"Emma," he gasped, half-surprised that his voice didn't crack. He felt about fifteen, as though he were seeing a pretty girl for the first time- palms sweaty, heart racing, unsure, and foolish. "You look…" He trailed off, unable to find the correct word.

His uncharacteristic inarticulateness made her smile, which only succeeded in making his tongue feel even thicker and more clumsy in his mouth.

"I know," she said with a cheeky grin. "So do you."

Killian gasped a short laugh. Seeing her made him glad he'd decided to wear his suit, rather than something more fashionable or comfortable. It was the only truly formal piece of clothing he owned, and generally only came out for weddings and funerals. He hated the way the tie made him feel just slightly strangled and had even taken off the chain with Liam's ring, hoping it would help, but Emma looked like a princess, and he was glad he'd made the effort to look like a prince who might be worthy of her.

"Erm," he said, still feeling awkward and clumsy, "these are for you."

From behind his back he produced a bouquet of a dozen red roses.

"Oh!" Emma said, blinking in surprise. "They're beautiful, thank you."

Killian shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. "I was given very strict instructions on the matter, I could hardly fail."

She gave him a small smile and stepped back from the door. "Come on in, I'll put these in water."

Killian followed after her, shutting the door and turning toward the kitchen, only to come up short as he found her standing in the doorway, holding the flowers and frowning.

"What is it, Emma?" he asked reaching out to touch her arm and get her attention.

The moment their skin connected, she jumped and moved away from him and Killian pulled his hand back as though burned, dropping it to flex at his side. They were, neither of them, the type to touch casually, and she rarely wore any clothing that bore so much skin. Killian thought he could count on his good fingers the number of times he and Swan had intentionally touched skin to skin in the years they'd known each other.

She shook her head and looked at him in surprise, then shrugged awkwardly.

"I… uh… I don't think I have a vase big enough for them."

"Oh," Killian said, at a loss. He hadn't even considered that. "Well… you needn't put them-"

"No!" Emma interrupted quickly. "No, I want to keep them. And… and Henry will want to see them when he gets back on Sunday." She frowned again, thinking then shoved the flowers unceremoniously back into Killian's hands. "Hold these," she said, then turned and marched across the kitchen to begin rummaging in a shelf, finally coming down with one of those big, plastic cups that one gets and can take home from roadside barbeque restaurants. She set the cup on the table, then gestured him into the kitchen and took the flowers from him to arrange in the cup. She then filled the cup with water from the tap and set it in pride of place in the center of her kitchen table.

For a moment the pair of them just looked at the lovely flowers in the ugly cup.

"It's not very impressive, is it?" Emma finally asked. "I should see if I can borrow something from the Inn. You'd think I might have something. Seems like a thing an adult should have."

"I think it's charming," Killian said, prompting a snort.

"I guess it's probably for the best that I don't have that many guys who want to bring me flowers," she said with yet another awkward shrug.

"More fools they," he declared. "Allow me to take advantage of their mistakes and escort you out for the evening, what do you say?" Her kitchen felt like the air had been sucked out and every breath made his lungs burn.

Then she smiled, and nodded, and he could breathe again.

"Yeah," she said, looking up at him through her lashes again, a smile nearly as nervous as he felt lighting her face, "sounds like fun."

Killian gave a flourishing bow and gestured her to the front door and out where she stopped dead on her porch.

"What is _that_?" she asked, staring forward.

Killian grinned. " _That_ is my car. Why? Never seen a man's Plymouth before?"

His smile grew wider as her mouth fell open as she continued to drink in the sight of the classic muscle car in pristine, shining red sitting in front of her house.

After a moment, however, she turned to him, quick as a snake, and punched him in the arm.

"Ow!" he cried in mock pain. "What was that for?"

"You've got a lot of nerve calling my Bug old when you've got this thing hidden up your sleeve."

"Your Bug _is_ old, Swan."

"My Bug is a '69. No possible way it's older than this one."

Killian laughed. "She's a '70, Love. The Bug is still old, even compared to the Lady."

"The Lady?" Emma snorted, finally stepping down off the porch to walk around the car. She reached out a hand to the candy-red body, then halted, her fingertips a centimeter away from the paint. "Can I touch… _her_?" she asked with a grin.

He smiled. "I suppose I'll allow it, but you should know it's quite a privilege."

"How long have you had her?" she asked, looking the car over in interest.

"I used to travel the country hoping to become a rock star. I had to get around somehow."

"Then why drive Liam's old truck when you could have this pretty girl on your arm?"

Killian shrugged. "I like Liam's truck. And she's a bit flashy for Storybrooke. She only comes out on special occasions."

Even as he said it, Emma stiffened again, all the tension that had left her as they'd talked about his car suddenly rushing back as she was apparently reminded that this was a _date_ , not just an opportunity for the pair of them to hang out and talk. Killian wished he could take the words back as his own heart seemed to race again as well.

"Come on then," he said, trying to sound jovial and wincing internally when he merely sounded like a madman. "The point of a car like this is not to sit idle on the street, but to drive, wouldn't you say?"

She straightened and gave him a tense smile. "Yeah, of course."

She started around the side of the car, even as Killian crossed to the door ahead of her. Their hands collided as they both reached for the handle, causing both of them to draw back in unison as though electric shock ran through their skin.

"Let me-" Killian said, reaching for the handle again.

"Is it locked?" Emma asked, frowning.

"No, I just-"

"I can open my own door-"

"Oh for god's sake, Emma. I'm trying to be a bloody _gentleman_!" Killian barked.

Her mouth opened, and Killian knew he was in for a verbal thrashing, and had just braced himself for the onslaught when she closed it, sharp enough to click her teeth together and nodded jerkily.

"Of course. Sorry. Wasn't thinking."

He sighed, even as he reached for the door handle to let her in. He didn't offer a hand to help her- made no move to touch her again at all- and allowed her to settle herself and her skirt before he closed the door with a quiet click.

He might have claimed otherwise, had anyone asked, but he found her unwillingness to fight with him more upsetting than he'd have found the fight itself. It wasn't like her at all.

All this 'behaving yourself on a date' was exhausting. She was too quiet, and he was too nice, and nothing felt quite like it was supposed to between them.

Killian rounded the hood of the car and slid in the driver's side, not looking at her. He took a long breath, trying to calm himself, before he spoke.

"Look, Emma, I'm sorry I snapped at you-"

"No," she said, quickly. "I was being stupid. It was obvious what you-"

"But I didn't need to be rude. I'm sorry."

She shrugged, uncomfortably. "It's fine, Killian. No problem."

The silence between them was more awkward than it had been in years as he started the car and began navigating through town.

Back when he'd first returned to Storybrooke, things had been uncomfortable between them- she'd been the young mother of a young child, just beginning to reconcile with her own mother, and having just moved out of what amounted to a shack at the Inn, and he had been newly arrived, newly injured, and newly privy to the secret of Liam's illness. Both of them had walls so high, they might as well have lived in different countries. They'd scarcely exchanged more than five words with each other in the first month he'd been in town, in spite of the fact that Emma and Henry's ubiquitous presence in the diner had already been well-established by that point.

It had taken Liam's insistence that Killian attend a Town Meeting that had first breached the walls enough to allow their fledgling friendship to blossom.

_Liam glanced around as he pointed Killian to a seat near the back._

" _Damn," he muttered, even as he sat beside his brother. "She's not here."_

" _She?" Killian asked, glancing around. It looked to him like the entire population had turned out. At the front were the Mayor, the sheriff (one of the few people who had managed to befriend Killian), and the school-board president- a twitchy red-headed man of the surname 'Hopper'- the only elected officials in town. Seated in the audience were, so far as Killian could tell, everyone who had made their way through the diner in the past six weeks since he'd arrived._

" _Emma Swan," Liam answered, still looking around as though he might have missed her. "Her commentary is the most entertaining part of these things. Perhaps she couldn't get anyone to watch the lad."_

" _Commentary?" Killian asked, only to be hushed by the woman in front of them (she ran the butcher's shop a street over from the diner, if Killian wasn't mistaken, and was a certified harridan) as the Mayor started to speak- something about getting the trash cans in from the sidewalk within an hour of the morning pick-up._

_Mayor Spencer hadn't been at it more than about five minutes when there was a disruption at the back of the room that had half the listeners turning their heads to look._

_It was, naturally, Emma and Henry Swan, punctual as ever. They quickly made their way to the only open seats (right behind Liam and Killian), but George stopped them in their tracks._

" _Emma, how many times have I told you that children are not supposed to come to the Town Meetings? They are disruptive and don't understand the proceedings."_

_Emma straightened, glaring down the aisle at the Mayor._

"Henry's _disruptive?" she asked, gesturing toward her son who had taken his seat and was swinging his legs as he watched the drama, avid as if it were a cartoon. "Need I remind you it was John and Will who started a fistfight last year over opening up Storybrooke Forest to hunters?"_

" _I thought we'd agreed never to mention that again?" the man named Will Scarlett, who Killian had never seen at the diner, but had avoided frequently enough at the pub called out._

_Emma ignored this. "Henry is more polite than half this town," she continued. "Besides, it's educational. He should see how local democracy works."_

" _It's not-" George began._

" _How about we put it to a vote," Killian called, not quite believing it was him speaking. There was a ripple of movement across the community and he could suddenly feel what seemed like a thousand surprised eyes on him- most pressing were the pair of blue eyes at his side, and the green eyes on the girl still standing in the aisle. Under the scrutiny, he seemed to lose his voice._

_Liam, however, less coward than he, did not. "Yes, George, a vote. All those in favor of the lad staying, say 'aye.'"_

_The response was near thunderous as it seemed everyone in town agreed._

" _And opposed?" Liam asked._

_There was a low grumble, scarcely a handful of dissenters._

_Still standing, Emma turned away from the Jones brothers and grinned up at the podium. "It would seem that the 'ayes' have it, George." With that, she took her seat._

_Once George had returned to the business at hand, Emma leaned forward and placed a hand on the near shoulders of both of the Jones brothers._

" _Hey," she said, softly so as not to interrupt. "Thanks."_

_Her hair had smelled of apple blossoms, and he'd been able to see, at that close range, that she covered up dark circles beneath her eyes with makeup._

_She leaned back and for the rest of the night, she made quiet, sarcastic quips to her son about everything that happened, smart remarks and sarcastic jabs that had the boy giggling quietly at her side. She'd been quiet, but Killian had noticed Liam shaking at his side with silent, suppressed laughter._

_For the first time since his accident, since leaving Milah and the band, and since Liam had burdened him with his secret, Killian had found himself, completely without having expected it and without his own permission, smiling as well._

"Where are we going?" Emma asked, drawing Killian out of his reminiscences.

"Eh? Oh, I'm surprised you haven't heard. Dave got it out of me earlier today, I figured everyone knew by now."

"Everyone but me, maybe. I haven't been in town today."

"Emma, you can't possibly tell me that you got ready for a-" he hesitated over the word 'date,' given how difficult it had been for them so far, "-an evening out without consulting Mary Margaret and Ruby? You are, perhaps, the most self-sufficient woman I've ever known, but I don't believe that for an instant."

Her voice was amused as she answered. "No, you're right. But Mary Margaret and David seem to have decided that it's bad luck to text with the date on the day of or something, and poor Ruby has been too busy handling both Mary Margaret's and my neuroses that she hasn't had time for gossip."

"Ruby Lucas, without time for gossip? It's the end of days."

She was truly laughing now. "Well David and Mary Margaret finally got together. Isn't that a sign of the apocalypse? Besides, it was mostly me that was the problem. Mary Margaret's first outfit got the sign-off. It took me a couple of tries."

"This wasn't your first choice? It's lovely."

"Thanks," she said, and the awkwardness was back in her voice. "No… I… uh… I had something else in mind, but Henry had said this was best, and Mary Margaret and Ruby agreed." He heard her shift against the seat next to him. "It's been awhile since I did this. Guess my instincts are off. Um… I like your suit. I haven't seen you wear a suit since…" She trailed off and the discomfort in the car ratcheted up about ten degrees.

Killian was fully aware that the end of that sentence had been "since Liam's funeral," and he winced.

He was beginning to think this entire evening would be less uncomfortable and tense if they were both naked, and that was a worrying- if not entirely unwelcome- thought.

He thanked the stars that they had made it out to the marina and Smee's was in sight. Within a minute he had parked in front of the tiny restaurant. Once he set the brake, he turned to face Emma, only to find her already watching him with a wary eye.

"What?" he asked, wondering if he'd done something else wrong.

"Did you want to open the door for me again? I didn't want to step on your toes."

Killian couldn't quite tell if she was making fun of him and decided to take the question at face value.

"Yes," he said simply, "stay there." With that he climbed out of the car and rounded the bonnet.

He opened Emma's door with a half-sarcastic flourish that included offering her a hand to get out. She hesitated for just a moment and then, to his surprise, she laid her hand in his.

The touch was as shocking as the first two times, but this time neither of them pulled away. They let the electricity run through them, raising the hairs on Killian's arm.

He pulled her up, bringing her out of the car to stand in front of him. Her heels put her face ( _her mouth_ ) closer to his- far closer than normal. He'd scarcely have to bend his head to kiss her.

As soon as the thought of kissing fully coalesced in Killian mind, he pushed it away. _Too soon_ , he told himself. _Too bloody soon_.

_Not bloody soon enough_ , some small, piratical voice in the back of his mind objected.

He realized, however, as she stood there, that their hands were still clasped. He wondered if he should let go, but realized that she was still holding onto his hand, though the moment she might have needed it had long since passed.

"Um," he choked out, finally finding his tongue again after what he was sure was far too long. "Shall we go in?"

The question seemed to startle her out of some thought and she finally dropped his hand.

"Yeah, of course." There was that tense smile again. Killian was growing to despise that expression on Emma's face.

He closed the car door with a click and gestured her toward the door to the restaurant. He instinctively reached to lead her with a hand on her back and stopped, his hand floating awkwardly an inch above the petal-pink fabric at her waist. He brought his hand back to his side, clenching and un-clenching his fist.

Inside the door, they were greeted by Smee himself- a small, suspicious, rat-faced man of near-seventy, with naval tattoos peeking out at every place that his clothing revealed skin. Killian happened to know that Smee had once been in the Navy, and had been dishonourably discharged nearly 40 years before. That much even David could have found out, but Killian alone in Storybrooke knew that Smee's dismissal had been for having had a years-long affair with his Captain that had been discovered. Smee had confessed all one night on Killian's boat under the lubricating effects of several litres of rum, and the following day had sworn Killian to secrecy. Killian had told the older man that times had changed, and he could probably get his dishonourable discharge removed from his record, but Smee had refused. It would have required coming out of the closet, and he was unwilling to do so. Killian had held his tongue, and Smee had considered himself always in his debt.

He led them to a table near the back of the empty restaurant and before a large window that looked out onto the water. They faced East, over the Atlantic, so the vista was an ombre of navy and black, rather than sunset-red, but the silver gilding of the water as night fell and the first appearance of the stars made it an appropriately romantic view.

Killian tried to reach out to help Emma with her chair, but Smee beat him to it, so he sat as the older man offered menus and vanished into the back of the restaurant.

"What's good here?" Emma asked after several long, silent moments during which they both stared more carefully at the words on the pages in front of them than they deserved. "I've never been before. Fish and chips is about the only thing I'm sure of."

"No, don't get the fish and chips," Killian said, quickly, his gaze colliding with hers at the centre of the table on which Smee had set a candle, apparently for ambiance.

Her lips thinned. "Right. Shouldn't eat like a ten-year-old."

"What?" Killian said, surprised. "No, they're just not any good. Smee's an American, after all. I've a friend who makes the best fish and chips in New England. I'll have to take you, sometime."

And there it was again, the tension returning in force. The rest of the night went the same: one moment they were nearly friends again- able to talk and laugh- and the next moment one of them would remember that they were on a date together and the awkwardness would creep back in. The roller coaster made Killian feel nauseous and he scarcely touched his stuffed flounder. He and Emma had agreed on a bottle of wine, and while part of him wanted to gulp it and hope that it helped suppress some of the discomfort of the evening, neither he nor Emma took more than a sip or two.

After a torturous hour, Smee returned to the table to offer them coffee or dessert and Emma, without consulting Killian, demurred and he knew that his instincts had been correct. For Emma Swan to turn down caffeine and sugar, the evening had clearly been an unmitigated disaster.

Smee brought the cheque quickly and, apparently infected by the air of discomfort at the table, set it in the centre and vanished.

Killian winced as Emma reached for her purse.

"Emma, don't," he said, placing his hand on top of the plastic holder, and meeting her eyes. She opened her mouth as though to speak and he interrupted her immediately. "Please, Swan?"

She closed her mouth and nodded.

The two of them escaped the oppressive atmosphere of the restaurant, which Killian was afraid he would forever after consider one of his least favorites, into the cool salt breeze of the harbour night. Killian gulped air as though he'd been drowning before following Emma back to the car. He didn't even try to open the door for her, just let her climb in herself as he rounded the hood to the driver's side.

Once the powerful motor growled to life, Emma finally spoke into the purring darkness.

"This has been weird, hasn't it?"

"You know," Killian sighed, leaning his head back against his seat, "I've been trying to come up with the right word for it all night. Awkward, uncomfortable, tense. But I think you've got it there- it was just _weird_."

"But why?" she asked, sounding genuinely confused. "We've known each other forever. This should have been easy."

"Aye, but theory and practice are different, after all."

They were silent for a long moment. For once, however, it wasn't the tense silence that had plagued them all night, but rather a more normal, introspective silence. It was almost as though, having named their demon, they had vanquished it.

"You don't think maybe," Emma said, after a few long moments, "we shouldn't be doing this, do you?"

"Doing… what, exactly?" Killian asked, warily.

"Dating," Emma said, with a vague gesture, her hand seeming to float bodiless in the dark car between them. "I mean… you and me, we've always been good. Even when things were the worst… after Liam and… everything… it's never been like this between us. Maybe we were wrong to try to make it more than it is, you know?"

"Maybe," Killian hedged, not exactly sure what she was saying.

"It's just… If we keep this up… I run away from things, you know that? And it's been a long time since I just packed up and ran, but it's still in me. I don't… I don't want to but you… It's not that you're like my brother or anything but… I might run from you if we were... I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"Oh thank god, I thought it was just me. Did you say I'm like your _brother_?"

"No, I said you're _not_ like my brother." She laughed breathily, then took a deep breath as though she were going to start talking again, but Killian stopped her.

"Let me try," he said, reaching out and deliberately putting his hand over hers. "You're important to me, Emma. You and Henry are the most important people in my entire life- though if you tell David that, I'll deny it so fast your head'll spin." She laughed again, and he smiled into the dark. "I haven't had a lot of relationships that worked right, like you were saying. Not the way we do. I hate things being awkward and weird between us so, if you think we can go back to the way things were before that idiot fight in the diner the other day, then I'll take that."

"Yeah," she said, turning her hand over and squeezing his. "That's what I was trying to say."

"Then that is what we shall do. We shall be as ever we were, and damn anyone who says we should be otherwise." There was a low note of disappointment in his heart, but the fact that Emma didn't want to run from him and wasn't going to keep herself or Henry out of his life made anything worthwhile. "Come on then, I'll take you home."

Having dispelled the strangeness of the evening by acknowledging it, the ride back to her house was much more pleasant than the drive away had been. Emma told him about how Mary Margaret had found her dress at a vintage boutique in Bangor during an antiquing weekend and brought it back to her. He told her about finding The Lady essentially derelict at a junkyard when he was 16 and spending most of high school rebuilding her virtually from the ground up. That story had reminded her that the Bug had started making an odd clicking noise as she'd driven home from Misthaven that afternoon, and would he be willing to take a look, and he had remembered to ask how Henry's last day of school had gone and how her mother was.

By the time they arrived at her house, they were friends again.

"No, I'm going to walk you up to your door," Killian said as Emma tried to wish him goodnight in the car. "Bad date or not, it's the gentlemanly thing to do."

Emma rolled her eyes, but her smile was pleased as he climbed out his side of the car and met her where she stood on the other. He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, as though they were characters in a Jane Austen novel, and led her up her front walk.

"I have a weird question," Emma said, just inside the gate.

"Yes, you can come in tomorrow for coffee. You'll be desperate since you didn't have any tonight," he teased.

She bumped him with her hip. "Oh shut up, no matter what you think I do actually know how to make coffee for myself. Nope, different question."

"Fire away then."

"Say there was a building on fire, and Henry and I are inside. You only have time to save one of us. Who do you save?"

He didn't need to think. "Henry."

She stopped in her tracks, which pulled him to a sudden stop as well. He turned to face her, unsure what had happened.

"Swan? You're not offended are-"

He told himself that if it were light, he'd have seen it coming. Surely there would have been something in her eyes that would have telegraphed what she did. As it was, in the dark, he was taken completely by surprise.

Her hands went to the lapels of his suit coat and she tugged while simultaneously going just the tiniest bit up on her toes, effectively bringing their mouths together. Hers was soft and warm, and he could taste the ghost of the wine she'd drunk on her breath. He could feel her petal-soft skin against what he knew was the beginnings of stubble, for all he'd shaved only a few hours before.

He was still for a heartbeat as she kissed him, then suddenly his hands and brain seemed shocked into action, and he had one hand in her hair, under the sleek fall of her ponytail, the other at her narrow waist, pulling her against him.

The voice (it sounded like Liam's) that had earlier told him it was too soon to kiss Emma tried to tell him to take it slow, but that other voice, the pirate who would take what it wanted and revel in the plunder, quickly drowned it out.

He opened his mouth against hers and his heart galloped when she responded in kind, allowing him to slip his tongue inside where she tasted sweet and silver and secret. Her sharp teeth nipped his tongue, sending him retreating, only to have hers follow him like the tides follow the moon. He sucked her tongue and she emitted a small, soft, beautiful little sound that had his hand in her hair clenching, which, in turn, made her gasp.

She pulled away first, dropping her heels back to the ground, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. His own breathing was none too steady.

"God, Swan," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers and looking into her eyes which were black in the shadowy dark. "If you tell me that was like kissing your brother-"

She gasped a laugh. "No. No, not even a little bit."

"Thank god."

"You don't suppose… it might have just been a one time thing though."

Killian had never considered Emma Swan a coquette, and to be honest, she wasn't brilliant at it. She wasn't a natural flirt- too straightforward and prickly for that- but he could read a come-on when he heard one, and happily bent his head to prove to her that it was anything but a one-time thing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sometimes I like giving updates on where this series is in the writing process, and today is one of those days because I finished another segment.**
> 
> **After this one is done (we're on 9 of 11, dearies!) there's a short two-shot focusing on some not-Captain-Swan characters, a somewhat longer three-shot that I'm _CRAZY_ proud of, and then another long(ish) one that I just finished writing this week. The longish one may end up being a special case as regards publishing, and may preface another short hiatus. Hopefully during that hiatus (like the last one around Christmas) I'll get a few one-shots and missing scenes written (there are a couple I want to write, but my brain has been being weird), and maybe even some work on some non-Where-You-Lead pieces.**
> 
> **However, we've still some time to go before then, so we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, sit back, relax, and enjoy the fallout of last week's really quite awful date!**
> 
> **Happy Fanfiction Friday, and a wonderful Earth Day to all my fellow Earthlings!**

Emma wasn't actually asleep when the knocking started, but given that it was her day off, and the hour on her alarm clock was only a single digit, she was still in bed.

She had been considering getting up, given her inability to sleep, but the knowledge that her son wasn't waiting for his breakfast and that she'd be forced to make her own coffee- no chance in Hell she was showing her face in the Jolly after the previous night- had kept her wrapped in her blankets until the knocking began.

There were were only a small number of people for whom Emma would willingly get out of bed before 10 on a weekend- Henry, Regina, Mary Margaret, Ruby, Granny, David, and Killian. Most of the people on that list would, generally, call or text before attempting her door. The notable exception to that rule would be Killian, but Emma sincerely doubted that it was he at her door that morning- aside from the fact that he would rarely choose to abandon the diner during the breakfast hour, they had left things so unsettled between themselves the previous night that Emma had a hard time believing that he'd be any more eager than she to deal with things again.

That left Amway and the Jehovah's Witnesses (or someone else from town that Emma didn't care to talk to) so she wrapped her blankets more tightly around herself and squeezed her eyes shut until the knocking stopped.

The trouble was that it didn't stop. Or, more precisely, it did stop for a moment, and then resumed on her back door. The one right under her window.

The ruled out salespeople and religious fanatics anyway. They never overstepped the "public" part of the property. That meant it was someone from town, which meant if she didn't respond, she'd feel guilty.

Emma had just decided that she could live with guilt when they started yelling for her.

"Emma, if you don't answer soon I'm going to go to the Jolly and heavily imply that if you're not here you must be at Killian's place."

What the hell was David doing at her back door at 8 AM?

Emma threw off her covers and stomped over to her window, threw it open, and thrust her head through to glare down at the top of David's sun-bleached head.

"Do you know what time it is?" she called down grouchily.

David took a step back and grinned up at her.

"Good morning, beautiful. I'd ask if you're alone, but I passed the Jolly on the way out here and saw Killian working."

"You have spent entirely too long with Ruby," Emma growled. "Why are you here?"

He lifted his left hand to display a tool box. "Last time I was here it looked like your fence needed mending. Thought I'd come out and lend a hand."

"Liar," Emma said, which made him grin. "You want to talk to me about last night. Did you and Mary Margaret draw straws for who came here and who went to the diner?"

"Rock-paper-scissors," David answered.

Emma sighed. "The door isn't locked. Start some coffee and I'll be down in a minute."

She pulled herself back into her bedroom and shut the window, sighing. If David was at hers, that meant Mary Margaret must be at the diner. Emma trusted Killian more than she trusted herself to keep their secrets, but Mary Margaret was better at rooting out people's emotions than David was. It was a surprisingly clever division of resources.

She both did and didn't want to talk about the previous night: of the dichotomy between the terrible date and the incendiary kiss. He'd practically melted her bones and set her blood on fire with that kiss, and she wanted him like she wanted breath. Were he anyone else in the world, she'd have invited him in for a nightcap and, given how little either of them had eaten, they'd almost certainly have ended up in bed. Not Killian, however. Emma wasn't averse to a fuck buddy in theory (though the logistics of having one with an eleven-year-old at home were somewhat daunting), but not him. The point of a fuck buddy was to be simple, and her feelings for Killian were anything but.

Not a bit of that could she say to David, however, not with his 'big brother' vibes. She couldn't talk about it with straight-laced, top-buttoned Mary Margaret either. Ruby would probably understand, but Emma felt like talking about it with anyone would infringe on Killian's privacy.

She coached herself in the mirror as she brushed her hair- be honest (she hated lying to her friends) but vague. Don't say anything that would embarrass Killian. Don't say anything that would make David blush or wrinkle his nose at her- he still occasionally teased her that he believed Henry had been immaculate conception.

Nodding decisively at her reflection, she left her bedroom and clattered down the stairs to the kitchen where David was sitting at the table, drinking out of her favorite mug, and smiling smugly from behind the roses still there from the previous night and competing with the coffee to be the most fragrant thing in the kitchen.

"I take it neither of you chickened out then? Will'll be disappointed to hear it."

"Will?" Emma asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Scarlett?"

"That's the one. His money was on you getting cold feet."

Emma frowned as she sat down across the table from her friend. "Jerk."

David shrugged. "Ned Land bet on Killian being the one who chickened out, if that helps."

Emma sipped her coffee, considering it. "Maybe a little. What did you have money on?"

"I don't bet on other people's social lives," David said, primly, which caused Emma to raise a skeptical brow at him. "Though if you could plan on asking him to marry you in about six months, I'd split the proceeds with you."

That made Emma laugh, which had David continuing. "Leroy had money on you coming into the diner in Killian's shirt this morning, and Ruby had odds on the Jolly being closed all day."

"Filthy minds," Emma said, shaking her head.

"Shamelessly so. So spill, Emma, who won? How'd it go?"

"He brought another girl along on the date," she said with a shrug. David frowned in confusion and Emma grinned. "Have you ever seen his car?" she asked.

His jaw dropped. "He let you ride in the Lady? God… through high school he wouldn't let most of us _breathe_ near her, much less actually _ride_ in her. He must really like you. So it went well?"

Emma shook her head. "I never kiss and tell."

"You _kissed_ him?" David asked, looking shocked.

Emma said nothing, just gave him what she hoped against hope was a mysterious smile over the top of her coffee mug.

"What about you then?" she asked once she'd calculated that enough time had passed for David to move on from the idea of her and Killian kissing. "How did _your_ evening go?"

David shrugged and grimaced. "Mixed. I suppose you heard that I cooked for her?"

Emma could feel her jaw drop. "You did _what_?"

"That's pretty much how Killian reacted when I told him what I was going to do. You two are pretty perfect for each other, you know that?"

"Shut up about me and Killian. _You_ cooked? For _Mary Margaret_?"

David sighed. "Yeah, and it went about as badly as you're imagining. She was polite and everything but…"

"But she's a professional, trained chef, and the height of your culinary skill is tossed salad and macaroni-and-cheese."

David looked sheepish as he nodded.

"So?" Emma pressed. "Was that the end of it- the food was terrible?"

"It wasn't _terrible_ , it was-"

"David!"

"Okay, it was terrible. And that made it awkward because she wouldn't say anything mean- you know Mary Margaret…"

"I do."

"But she wouldn't say anything nice either. So I finally managed to get the truth out of her… and we both just started laughing."

"Laughing?" Emma asked, surprised.

"Yeah… and that was it. That was what we needed. After that it didn't matter- it didn't have to be perfect and romantic and everything, it was just… exactly right. We just talked about everything. For hours. We stopped worrying about how we were _supposed_ to be on a date, and trying to be polite, and impressing each other. It was the best date I've ever been on 'cause we didn't have to get to know each other or go through all of the stupid things you have to go through on a date. We could just be ourselves. My mom came back at around 1:30 and we were still there just talking and laughing…"

Emma watched him, and the dreamy expression on his face. She'd known for years that David Nolan was madly in love with Mary Margaret Blanchard, but she'd never seen him look like _that_. She wondered to herself what Mary Margaret's face looked like this morning.

~?~?~?~?~

"I tried to talk him out of cooking for you," Killian said, looking honestly contrite as Mary Margaret watched him over her coffee mug. "Was it awful? Did it ruin the night?"

"It wasn't awful!" she said, quickly and unconvincingly.

Killian said nothing, just crossed his arms over his chest and raised a single thick, dark eyebrow.

Mary Margaret grinned. "Okay, it was awful, but it absolutely didn't ruin the night."

That brought up Killian's other brow, the dreamy tone of her voice surprising him. "No?" he prompted.

She shook her head with a sweet smile. "Not at all. He was trying so hard to impress me, and it was so awkward and bad. But then, once we acknowledged it… it wasn't tense anymore. It wasn't… weird. It was just us, and we just got to talk and laugh and be together. It was perfect, actually."

"Yeah?" he asked, both surprised and pleased.

"Yeah," she sighed, looking happy and dreamy. After a moment she managed to pull herself out of her fantasies and give Killian a sharp look with her dark eyes. "And what about you? How did your evening with Emma go?"

Killian shrugged, suddenly ill-at-ease. "Oh yeah," he said, suddenly sounding too jovial and too happy, "it was… yeah, it was perfect for us too." _On paper_ , he added in his mind. "I… er… I picked her up at her place and brought her flowers. Roses."

"Oh, that's so romantic!" Mary Margaret cried, looking dreamy.

"We went out to a nice restaurant- there were candles, and we looked out over the water-"

"Beautiful!"

"I wore a suit… She was wearing a dress."

"The pink one I got her?"

"Aye."

"Oh good," Mary Margaret said happily. "She'd been planning on wearing a black dress and her red jacket, but that pink made her look like a princess."

"Aye, she was lovely."

"It sounds like it was completely perfect. A fairy tale."

Killian glanced around the diner. Everyone seemed content with their food and drink- if he was going to do it, this was the moment.

"Mary Margaret?" he asked, tentatively.

"Mmm?"

"I need to go into the back for a moment, but I've more to tell. Come with me?"

She smiled and set her cup down on the counter and slid off the stool. "You know I'm always happy to help you in the kitchen if you like," she offered even as he led her to the back.

He ignored this and allowed the door to swing shut behind her before laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Last night was a disaster."

Mary Margaret blinked, the smile sliding off her face in a moment. "What?"

"It was awful. It was awkward and weird and just… it was a nightmare. Worst date I've ever been on. It all seems like it should have been perfect: nice restaurant, nice clothes, two people who are fond of each other, but nothing was right. We even decided, by the end, that we weren't meant to be more than friends, and that was fine until…"

"Until?" Mary Margaret prompted when he trailed off.

Killian shrugged awkwardly. "When I was walking her to her door, she kissed me."

"She _kissed_ you?"

"Stop bloody repeating me, and lower your voice. Yeah, she kissed me and it was… I don't think I can go back to just friends now that I know how she kisses."

"Killian!" she said, disapprovingly.

Killian ignored this. "What did I do wrong, Mary Margaret?"

"Nothing!" she cried. "I told you, it sounded like a fairy tale to me. You treated her like a princess and…" She suddenly trailed off, her eyes going distant.

"Mary Margaret?"

"Oh no," she whispered.

"Mary Margaret!" Killian cried, waving a hand in front of her face and making her blink. "What's going on?"

"I know what went wrong, Killian. You treated her like a princess!"

Killian could feel his jaw drop. "Isn't that what I was supposed to do? Henry said-"

"Emma isn't like Henry," Mary Margaret explained, as though this were obvious. "Well, I mean she is, but she also isn't. Henry believes in fairy tales and happy endings, but not Emma. She's… cynical. I mean, I'm sure she'd say she's realistic, but it comes to the same thing- she's not romantic, and neither are you. Well, you are, actually, in the traditional sense of the word, but not… not the way most people think about it. Basically what I'm trying to say is that you were both trying so hard to get the date right that you ended up going on a date that would be perfect for _me_ or _Henry_ \- it was perfect on paper and was terrible for _you_."

"That… doesn't make any sense."

Mary Margaret smiled and shrugged. "You and Emma, you're not pink dresses and roses and candlelit dinners, that's way too traditional for you."

"So what are we?"

She gave a short laugh. "You'd know better than I would, Killian. But whatever it is, you should figure it out soon. If I know Emma, she'll talk herself out of whatever she's feeling if you give her too much time, okay?"

With that deep insight, Mary Margaret returned to the buzzing diner, leaving Killian alone with his thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I've been listening to a lot of podcasts recently (does anyone want to talk to me about _The Black Tapes_? I really need to talk to someone about _The Black Tapes_. Alex/Strand though, right? What about _Tanis_?) so I feel weirdly inclined to write this author's note in the form of a podcast intro:**
> 
> **This week on _To Me That's What You're Worth_ , we continue to investigate the fallout of Emma and Killian's disastrous date, and the intriguing kisses that followed, Killian reveals some information about his past, and Emma is re-introduced to a new friend.**
> 
> **_Where You Lead_ is a product of the minds of Wheel and WhoLockGal, and is sponsored by nobody, unless you count my job where I seem to do about 95% of my writing in spite of the fact that I'm usually supposed to be working. Be sure to rate and review us on Archive, Tumblr, or wherever you get your fanfiction.**

Emma frowned as she scrolled through the "continuing education" selections on the community college's website. She found herself there more and more frequently as Henry got older and smarter. She wanted to keep up with him- wanted him to be proud of her- and her barely-completed high school education wasn't going to cut it for many more years. Add to that the thoughts of when Granny finally did give in and retire, leaving the Inn to Ruby, Mary Margaret, and herself to run on their own. Emma didn't want to be a burden on her friends. Her education in the school of hard knocks had served her so far, but the time was coming when she'd need more.

"Business management and administration," she murmured to herself, glancing through the list of available courses, all of which sounded rather dull. "Hospitality and tourism." These sounded like a bit more fun. "Marketing, Sales and Service." No-go again. "Law, Public Safety, Corrections and Security." She shook her head at her own foolishness.

Back when she'd first begun fostering with Regina, Emma's new foster mother had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, and Emma had told her that she wanted to be a police officer. It had even been true, at the time, but that was a dream that was long-since dead. Emma managed the Inn now, and she was happy doing it.

A sharp rap at her front door intruded into Emma's thoughts and she snapped her laptop closed as though she'd been caught doing something wicked. She pushed herself off the couch with a sigh and padded, sock-footed (it was her day off, after all) to the front door where a dark shadow could be seen fuzzily through the faceted glass. She pulled the door open and felt her jaw hit the floor.

Killian Jones stood on her porch, hands in his pockets, smiling sheepishly, and looking at her sideways through that sooty fringe of lashes than any woman would envy. He wasn't wearing the suit she'd last seen him in, but he wasn't wearing a faded flannel shirt either.

His jeans were black and tight-fitting over his hips and thighs. His button-up shirt was black, and so was the suit vest he wore over it. The shirt was unbuttoned over his chest just far enough to display a bit of chest hair under the silver ring on a silver chain hanging down over his heart. He was even wearing a black jewel in a stud in his left ear and had topped the whole thing with his black leather jacket. So much black made his blue eyes flash and his teeth look particularly white when he grinned at her expression.

He was mouth-watering and Emma was speechless.

"Looks alright then?" he asked, shrugging and drawing her attention back to his clothes. "You won't be too embarrassed to be seen with me in public?"

"Public?" Emma asked, feeling as though she'd missed a step somewhere. "What is this? What are you doing here, Killian?"

"What this is is me picking you up to go on a date. I'm here because you're here, it wouldn't make much sense for me to pick you up from a place you aren't."

"Did you hit your head? Our date was last night, or have you already forgotten?"

"Hardly. I'm taking a mulligan on last night and this is my do-over."

Emma blinked in surprise and then ran her eyes over his clothes again. "Clearly you're not planning on playing the same hand you did last night."

He grinned. "Not even the same game. Get your coat, Swan."

Emma looked him over again, then glanced ostentatiously down her own body, clad in black yoga pants and a tank top.

"Nuh-uh, not a chance. If you're dressed like that there's no way I'm going out in sweats. Since when do you dress like…"

"Like?" Killian asked, one eyebrow cocking.

"Like a damned advertisement in GQ. Most of the time the town seems to be lucky if you bother to shave and wear a clean shirt. When did you learn to wear clothes?"

Killian's smile deepened so that the charming and rarely-seen dimple in his right cheek popped out.

"I used to fancy myself a rock star. I still have a bit of the old swagger left, when I go looking for it. Do you like it?"

That last question caught her off-guard and made Emma look at him more closely. Swagger he had, and in abundance, but behind the cocky smile there was an endearing vulnerability. He wanted approval. More even than that, he wanted _her_ approval.

Whatever remaining resistance she had evaporated at that realization. She might be setting herself up for another uncomfortable night, but an uncomfortable night with one of her best friends could, this once, trump a quiet night at home with her own thoughts.

"Yeah, I guess you clean up okay," she said, as though she grudged him the compliment. She didn't, particularly when his face lit in another heart-stopping grin. "But so do I, and I can't have you showing me up. Come on in and I'll change."

She moved aside to let him in, breathing in the smell of leather just barely underscored with the smell of diner grease, coffee, and salt air that never seemed to completely vanish from him as he passed.

"I'd tell you to get a drink from the fridge, but… I don't actually think there's anything in there. Maybe a Diet Coke, but I can't promise anything. The sink has water."

Killian snorted. "I could make coffee if that'd help?"

Emma was surprised. "While I never turn down your coffee, particularly if it's offered without a lecture, would we really have time for that? What time is your reservation for?"

Killian shook his head. "No reservation. If you will insist on changing out of that fetching outfit, you should do that, though I hardly see a reason."

Emma didn't move, just frowned at him. "You don't have a reservation?"

"No. Would have been a bit presumptuous, don't you think? I didn't even know if you'd agree to a second try. Besides, I'm trying to do things differently from last night. The evening is ours to do with as we please- no one to impress, nowhere specific to be. If you want to stay in and watch Firefly, then that is what we'll do. If you want to drive to Boston or New York and hit the club scene for the entire weekend, then we shall do that. Anything your heart desires. Your wish is my command."

As he mentioned the organ, Emma's heart did an odd flutter that she staunchly refused to name or even acknowledge.

"So the choice is mine?" she asked, surprised to find her voice gone soft and serious.

"The choice was always yours, Swan," he answered, voice equally serious, blue eyes shining in the late-afternoon glow.

She looked at him, backlit by the golden sun streaming in through her front windows. Really looked, as she hadn't done in a long time. He was so close to her, so familiar, that she rarely gave him much thought. There is a saying that something is as familiar as the back of one's hand, but in truth, who really looks at the back of their hand? It is the familiar things most often overlooked because they are familiar.

He stood, feet square, shoulders back, looking at her, patient as a soldier waiting for the order from his queen. His mouth, set against his appealingly sexy dark stubble, was soft. In repose, his lips always seemed to tilt up on the right side, as though he were always laughing slightly at the world. Only when that strong, angular jaw clenched in true angst did his lips settle into a straight line. Though there was tension around his eyes in that moment, his mouth had that turned-up quality that made it possible to find him endearing in spite of his sarcasm and prickly tendencies.

He was waiting for her answer.

"I want..." she said, slowly and thoughtfully, looking away from him and turning her attention inward.

She wanted, more than anything, to get back to that blinding moment of clarity and confidence that had come to her the previous night on her front path as he'd answered her silly question about burning buildings as unhesitatingly as she would have done. For one moment, everything had seemed revealed, as though a fog had lifted and she'd been able to see all of the future in crystalline simplicity. That shining vision had been obscured in the intervening time by lust and confusion, sleep and self-doubt, until she could not have said what it was that had suddenly come so brilliantly clear. She suspected that she had seen everything she wanted and everything she needed, and she had, for the first time in her life, reached for it.

Reached for Killian.

But her life wasn't simple, and no future- with or without Killian- could be. No matter how confident she had felt in that second, there were too many variables to be sure of anything, even him.

"I want," she said again, finally raising her eyes to his again, "a drink and some fries. And not to hear a word from you about it."

His smile deepened again, and his eyes relaxed. "I know just the place. It's a pub run by a friend of mine. I mentioned it last night- best fish and chips you'll ever have."

Emma grinned. "Sounds perfect. I'll go get changed."

Killian shrugged, but his eyes sparkled. "If you insist, but still say you look quite nice as you are."

Emma snorted. "You're just trying to make sure you're the prettiest one there, aren't you?"

He laughed and threw up his hands. "Guilty. However, I must say that I'm shocked at how sexy you manage to make Cookie Monster socks, Swan. Victoria's Secret has nothing on Sesame Street."

"Your flattery will get you nowhere, Jones."

"You can't blame a man for trying."

Emma just laughed and took the stairs two at a time to get to her bedroom, suddenly feeling light as the schoolgirl she'd never been.

The moment she was in her bedroom she tossed off her tank top and stepped out of her sweatpants as she crossed to her closet, leaving them lying in the middle of the floor behind her. She stood before the open door and her rack of clothes in nothing but her underwear and Cookie Monster socks. She wasn't wearing a bra which might have been what had inspired Killian to be so complimentary of her "bumming around the house" getup.

She shook her head, laughing to herself. He could be a _guy_ this once- he was a gentleman most of the time.

She didn't even second-guess her choice of outfit. From the moment she'd seen him at the door, his clothes had practically begged for her to wear the black-dress-red-jacket combo that Mary Margaret and Ruby had shot down the previous night.

It wasn't until her bra, dress, and boots were all on and she was running a brush through her wavy blonde hair that she realized that she was excited. Not gut-churningly anxious, as she had been the previous night, but honestly and truly looking forward to the evening.

The realization stopped her in her tracks, brush halfway down her long hair. She enjoyed spending time with Killian- she'd sought out his company practically daily since he'd returned to Storybrooke- and yet she'd let the expectations of the town and her son and even her own psyche ruin his companionship. But somehow, without tacitly acknowledging it in words, he'd managed to let her off the hook and she was looking forward to spending time with her best friend again.

Even the slight frisson of nerves and lust that settled low in her belly when she thought about the kisses they'd shared the previous night, while it was new and unusual, had taken on a pleasurable nature, rather than a nauseatingly anxiety-laden one.

She didn't know how he'd managed it, but tight jeans and his unshaven face had done what a suit and tie could not- made her confident about dating Killian Jones.

It might not last forever, and there might be bumps along the way, but as she brushed mascara over her lashes and shrugged into her red leather jacket, she was finally beginning to believe that it might be worth the risk.

Killian turned toward her when she stepped into the kitchen, though she could have sworn she hadn't made a sound, and stood displaying those old-fashioned manners she'd first noticed in his brother. He ran an eye over her, then raised his blue eyes back to hers and grinned.

"I've probably never told you, but I've always liked your red leather jacket."

Emma was surprised. "Really?"

"Aye, it suits you."

She glanced down at herself, tugging the ends of the jacket slightly self-consciously. "I've had it a long time." She looked up and he was suddenly near her, quiet as a cat.

"As long as I've known you," he agreed. He reached out a finger and slid it along the zipper starting at the collar all the way down to where her hands were still gripping the hem. "It looks good on you, Swan," he said, and she shivered a the low, soft sound of his voice, accent rumbling across her nerves.

"And you'll match the Lady," he continued, timbre suddenly changing as he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the front door.

Sweet tension broken again, Emma took only half a heartbeat to catch back up to his mood.

"You brought your girlfriend on our date again?" she asked, laughing as she pulled the door shut behind them, pleased to see the shining red car on the road in front of her house.

"Well you two ladies got on so well the first time, it seemed cruel to keep you apart," Killian said, sounding cheerful. Emma wondered if it was because she'd been able to choke out the word "date" without stammering.

He tugged her toward the car, still hand-in-hand (and when, she wondered, had she last felt so giddy simply by holding a man's hand?) and this time, perhaps because they'd done the dance before, and perhaps because they were both falling into a rhythm that felt natural, when he reached for the door, she was able to step smoothly out of the way and let him open the door for her like a prince in a fairy tale- though what fairy tale included a classic American muscle car, she couldn't think.

Emma settled into her seat and finally let go of Killian's hand as he closed her door with a click. She smoothed her skirt over her knees, one hand tingling with his touch, the other feeling oddly cold. When he slid into his own seat, she turned and grinned at him, leaning against the centre console and batting her lashes.

"Am I ever going to get to drive the Lady?" she asked.

Killian snorted. "If I let you drive her, I'll never see the pair of you again. You'd go running off toward the horizon and I'm not letting anyone steal my girl."

Emma chose not to ask him which of them he was referring to when he said 'girl.'

"What do you think of me, Killian Jones? You think I'd just abandon my Bug for a younger model? That car is the longest successful relationship I've had in my entire life."

"I had no intention of impugning your honor, Swan, forgive me."

"I will if you show me what your Lady here can do. Car like this isn't meant to be driven carefully through town like a horse-drawn carriage, she's supposed to be screaming down the open road."

Killian affected a horrified look, but he couldn't hide the twitch to the right side of his mouth. "I maintained the speed limit precisely last night. Are you asking me to break the law? George would be horrified."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Emma said with a grin. "I didn't realize you followed all of George's rules. I thought there was a bit more… pirate in your soul." Her smile grew wicked at this last and she tried a move she'd only ever seen Ruby do: she bit the side of her lip even as she smiled.

Emma had no idea if she'd done the move right, but his eyes flicked down to her mouth, and when they met hers again, they were noticeably darker.

He licked his lips before he spoke and Emma thought her own eyes might have gone a bit dark as well.

"If Sheriff Humbert gives me a ticket for your goading, I'll expect you to pay it, you know."

"Why don't I just flash a little leg so he doesn't issue a ticket at all?" Emma teased.

"Don't you dare." Like his eyes, his voice was noticeably darker.

"Jealous, Jones?" she asked, part in surprise and part in challenge.

"Wildly," he answered simply.

Emma blinked in surprise. Her innate sense told her that it was the truth: simple and unembellished.

"Do you mind?" Killian asked, sounding suddenly more vulnerable.

Emma thought for a moment. "Well…" she began, "it's what got us to this point, isn't it?"

She glanced up to see him nodding solemnly.

"In that case," she continued slowly, looking away again, "no, I don't think I do mind."

Finally she looked up again to find him smiling at her, wide and joyful.

"Now then," she said, when he started to lean toward her, clearly angling for a kiss that she didn't trust herself with, sitting in his car in front of her house (too much like the day Henry had been conceived), "you have to show me what this old girl can do, don't you?"

He leaned back and turned forward again, reaching to turn on the ignition.

"As you wish," he said, turning to wink at her cheerily even as he eased out of the spot in front of her house. "Let it never be said that I left a date unsatisfied."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Some of you (especially if you're one of my professors in college) may have noticed that I'm kind of garbage at conclusions, so I tend to end stories en media res, as it were. That said, since this story isn't necessarily OVER, just having something of an episode break, I think it works. Tune in next week for the first chapter of Loving You The Way I Do.**
> 
> **I just want to give you a quick reminder that these stories have all been written just AGES in advance of being posted, so there are no references to pancakes or CS weddings or any of the things that are on all of our minds right now. Those references ARE in the stuff I'm writing currently, but most of you don't get to see those stories yet.**
> 
> **So... who's excited for the musical episode?**

Killian's fingers tingled as he laid his hand on the small of Emma's back to guide her into the Pixie's Treehouse pub. She didn't need guidance, but her skin was warm all the way through her black dress, and when he placed his hand in that dip just below the hem of her red jacket, she swayed perceptibly closer to him as they walked.

"I've never been here before," she said as she preceded him through the door. "I've lived here for ten years, how did I not know this place existed?"

"You've a young son, you're hardly known for your bar-hopping ways," Killian explained.

"I've been known to bar-hop."

"Yes, but generally in Boston or Portland, with Mary Margaret and Ruby, not usually here in town where your son might hear about your antics."

Emma turned an arch look on him. "And what have _you_ heard about my antics?"

Killian fixed an innocent expression on his face that only made Emma glare harder.

"Not a word, Swan. I'm sure you, Mary Margaret, and Ruby are the very soul of discretion when you're out from under the eye of Storybrooke and Regina."

Emma snorted. "Ruby Lucas doesn't know the meaning of the word discretion, and I couldn't spell it with a gun to my head."

"Killian!"

Both Emma and Killian looked up to see the tiny, blonde girl standing behind the bar, bouncing on her toes and waving madly at the pair of them.

"Tink!" Killian cried, grinning widely. "I didn't know you were working tonight, Love." He took his hand off of Emma's back and gestured her toward the bar. "After you, Swan."

She gave him an odd, unreadable look, before taking that first step across the gleaming wood floor, wending her way through the small, largely unpopulated tables to the end of the bar where Tink was standing, hip-shot, watching the pair of them with her wide, grey-green eyes.

Killian was only a step behind her, and had an idea what emotion was making Emma's smile look more forced than normal. It made him feel just a bit pleased that she was no more immune to jealousy than he.

"Swan, I'd like to introduce you to Tatiana Bell. Though you'll only call her such if you enjoy the idea of having your nose broken."

The girl grinned, her pretty, pixie's face turning puckish.

"Tink, this is Emma Swan."

Her eyes went wide then. " _This_ is Emma Swan?" She turned to Emma, an appraising look in her eyes. "Blimey, he talks about you all the time. Never thought he'd get the balls to ask you out though." She leaned against the counter, bringing her closer to Emma and continued in a stage whisper. "Did he give you something? You know you should never trust a drink a strange man gives you-"

"I run a diner!" Killian said, indignant.

Tink ignored this. "Did he blackmail you?" she continued as Emma started to shake with laughter. "If he's got something on you, just let me know. I've got his baby pictures and he doesn't want those getting out."

"You do not!" Killian cried.

Finally Tink turned to him with a wicked grin. "No? Who do you think Liam gave them to, eh? He knew you'd probably burn them."

"Where's Robin? I need a barrier against you."

Tink shrugged. "Upstairs putting the wee lad to bed. He'll be back down in a few minutes." She turned back to Emma. "So what can I get you to drink."

"Uh-" Emma stuttered, obviously caught off guard.

"I'll have a-" Killian started, only to be stopped by a glare from Tink.

"I didn't ask you, now did I? Go on, Emma."

"Oh… well… I suppose I should just have a beer. No need to start hard drinking yet. What do you have on tap?"

Tink shook her head. "You're out on a date with this reprobate and you don't need hard liquor? You're a braver woman than I, Ms. Emma Swan. If you want a beer, I've just the thing." She shot a grin at Killian again that made him straighten suddenly from where he'd been leaning on the bar.

"He told me there wasn't any left!" he cried as Tink ducked under the counter.

"Yes well, he lied," she said, reappearing with a damp bottle in hand. She opened it and set it on a coaster in front of Emma. "On the house," she said voice shaking with laughter. "It's my personal collection, after all."

Emma looked between the pair of friends. "What am I missing?" she asked.

Killian sighed. "Robin and I tried our hand at beer making together a few times. That's the most recent and most successful attempt. It's not good, but it won't poison you."

"More than can be said for most of their batches," Tink said as she wrinkled her nose.

"I didn't know you made beer!" Emma said, surprised.

"I make coffee," he said with a shake of his head. "About once a year I lose my head and let Robin talk me into attempting beer, and every time I regret the decision."

Emma picked up the bottle to see a surprisingly appealing label with the name of the brew printed across it: "By Hook or By Crook." She raised an eyebrow at Killian.

"His name's Robin- you know, like Robin Hood? A crook. And… well… you know about me and pirates. The Jolly Roger… Captain Hook…"

Emma and Tink dissolved into giggles together.

"Oi!" Killian cried in mock-indignation. In point of fact, there was a warm glow in his belly at the fact that Emma seemed to be having a good time- he'd open himself up to a lot of humiliation if it made her laugh like that.

The girls finally calmed down after a few minutes, and Emma picked up the bottle again, looking it over like a connoisseur. "Who designed the label for you?" she asked even as she passed it under her nose like wine.

"What gives you the idea that I didn't do it myself?" Killian asked.

Emma snorted. "I've seen your curtains. If you had any aesthetic sensibilities, you'd have gotten rid of those years ago."

Killian rolled his eyes and Tink laughed.

"I designed it for them. Thought they deserved something special for their first marginally palatable attempt."

"Well with that kind of sales pitch…" Emma said and tipped the bottle back for a taste.

Both Killian and Tink watched her carefully as she swallowed and frowned, then took another small sip from the bottle, her frown deepening.

"It's…" she said, slowly, as the pair of friends leaned toward her. "It's… um…" She glanced up at Killian and shrugged with an apologetic smile. "It's not very good."

Tink started laughing again, but Killian just shook his head and took the bottle out of Emma's hand.

"Why don't you do your job, and provide this lady with something she actually _wants_ to drink, Tink? I'll finish this."

The two girls bent their sunshine-bright heads together as Killian took a sip of the dreck in the bottle, wrinkling his nose at the taste. He was distracted from his bad beer by Robin returning to the pub, however.

"Killian!" Robin said, his voice booming too loud in the relatively quiet pub. Robin was an outdoorsman, and often forgot the benefits of an 'inside voice.'

He crossed to Killian and raised an eyebrow at the bottle he was holding. "I didn't think there was any of that stuff left."

"Apparently Tink's been keeping it to blackmail us with," Killian said with a shrug. "How's the lad?"

"Had I known you were here I'd have made you come up and read his story. He always goes down far easier for Uncle Killian than he does for me. I half suspect you knock him over the head. But I see you've a far more compelling distraction this evening than my son."

Killian glanced over at Emma who now had a pint in front of her and was watching his reunion with Robin with interest.

"Aye, so it would seem. Emma, this is my mate Robin. This is his place-"

"Mine and Tink's. Did she tell you I made her a full partner?"

"No!" Killian said, glancing over at Tink whose face was glowing pink with pleased embarrassment, even as she turned away to fiddle with the tap. "Well done, Tink," He called over to her, then, lowering his voice to speak to Robin again, "and well done you."

Robin smiled and shrugged. "The Treehouse was my wife's and mine for years until she died," he explained to Emma. "Tink was a waitress here for ages. I didn't think I could share the place again after Marion, but… well…"

"Congratulations," Emma said sincerely.

"And Robin, this is Emma Swan, my…" Killian trailed off and glanced quickly at Emma, who was watching him with nearly as much interest as Robin, waiting for his next word. "My friend," he concluded awkwardly.

"Friend," Robin murmured, a smile growing at the right side of his mouth. "Well," he continued turning to Emma and holding out a hand to her, "any friend of Killian's..."

When Emma placed her hand in his, however, Robin didn't shake it. Instead he turned their hands over and laid a kiss on Emma's pale knuckles, eyes sparkling.

"Locksley," Killian growled, which make Robin grin brightly.

"Like _that_ , is it? Well it _is_ a pleasure to meet you, Emma Swan. I'd have thought Jones here could manage a more impressive date than my pub though."

"He said your fish and chips are the best he's ever had," Emma said.

Robin snorted. "That pirate's been trying to get the recipe out of me for an age, and he won't manage it."

"So long as you leave it to me in your will, old man," Killian said without rancor.

"Two rounds of fish and chips for the lovebirds," Robin said without acknowledging Killian at all. "That's fine, now get off my bar and sit at a table like a civilized human. Go on."

Emma picked up her drink and Killian placed his hand in the small of her back again, guiding her to a table away from the bar. When they got there, he pulled out a chair for her, but let her scoot herself back into place, trying to avoid making an awkward mess of the move yet again. When he sat down and looked at her, she was grinning at him.

"I like your friends."

He snorted, but that warm glow in his chest burned brighter.

"Well you're welcome to them as I intend never to speak to either of them again. Out to embarrass me, the pair of them."

"Just shows that they love you. How do you know them?"

He shrugged and took another sip of his beer, forgetting for a moment precisely what it was he was drinking and surprised at the taste.

"I should really get something else," he muttered. "Robin and Marion were Liam's first friends when we arrived here. They had a bit in common, after all. They were there for me when Liam died, and so I returned the favor when it was Marion."

"And Tink? You and her never…"

Killian grinned. "Me and Tink never what, Swan?" She sent him a glare which made him laugh. "No, Love, you've nothing to be jealous of. Tink and I are friends."

"That's what you told Robin you and I are."

"True, but it's a much simpler meaning of the word with her. She and Liam dated a bit off and on through the years, though she generally prefers women. Liam was a special case. Or temporary insanity, depending on when you ask her. I am very much not to her tastes."

"Oh," she said, and her shoulders relaxed just slightly.

"Jealous, Swan?" he asked, surprisingly invested in the answer.

She paused for a moment, clearly considering her answer. "Yeah," she said finally. "I suppose I am… a little bit… sometimes. Have you heard from Milah lately?"

"Milah?" he asked, completely wrong-footed.

She shrugged. "I'd never really thought to be jealous where you were concerned until… well…"

That glow in his chest got several degrees warmer. At this rate, it would ignite his blood soon.

"I get e-mail updates about the band's tour schedule. If they were to play somewhere nearby, would you like to go?"

"Um…" she looked uncertain, "I don't really know. Do you ever miss it?"

"The band? Singing?" He shrugged. "Sometimes, but I wouldn't trade for it." He looked at her, and she wouldn't meet his eyes. He shook his head and chucked a finger gently under her chin to make her look at him. "Emma, I chose Storybrooke and everything- and every _one_ \- that's here. I don't regret it, Love. If we went to see the old band, it would just be a bit of nostalgia, and a chance for you to see a bit of my past, alright?"

She nodded, and he took his hand away with a gentle brush of his fingertip along the soft skin of her jaw.

"I'll let you know if they're nearby, and we can talk about it then," he said.

Emma, however, appeared to be distracted from this line of conversation. Her eyes were focussed on something over his shoulder.

"Hey, Kil, do you play darts?" she asked.

He blinked at this rapid subject change. "What?"

"Come on," she said, and grabbed his hand to pull him toward the back of the pub where, sure enough, there was a dartboard set up.

"Are you any good?" she asked.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged, a smile growing across her face. "I am," she said without any pretense of modesty, "and if you are, then I want to challenge you to a little bet."

That sharpened his interest. "A bet?"

She grinned. "You up for it, Pirate?"

He narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, enjoying her smile as he pretended to consider her offer. "All right, Swan, I'll take your bet. What are the stakes?"

"If I win, I get free coffee for a month from the Jolly."

"You get free coffee half the time anyway."

She put a finger in the air. "As much as I like, and without lectures."

Killian pursed his lips as though thinking it over. "That could bankrupt me, but I suppose I'll accept it. And what about when _I_ win?"

Her smile widened at his use of the word "when." " _If_ you win, I'll make you new curtains."

"You know, you're the only one bothered by my curtains."

"Liar. Will you take it or not?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his lips as he thought it over. He noticed, as he did so, that her eyes zeroed in on them and went slightly dark.

"Alright," he said, that warm glow in his chest suddenly fanned to a flame. "You're on, Swan."

It started simply enough- each of them threw three darts in an attempt to beat the other's score. Tink came by after a bit to check on them and left their plates of fish and chips on a table near them, as well as a second round of drinks (this time with something palatable for Killian).

It was Emma blaming a bad throw on greasy fingers that changed the nature of the game, or so Killian would claim later. She had carefully, near-pornographically, licked her fingers clean as he watched. His next throw had gone so wide that he'd been able to hear Tink and Robin's laughter from across the room.

The next time it was Emma's turn, then, he patted on her shoulder as he moved out of her space, then intentionally dragged his fingers across her back, brushing her hair aside, and across the back of her neck, making her shiver. Her throw didn't go quite as wide as his, but she came nowhere near the centre of the target.

The game devolved from there. On one of his throws, Emma sat up on a table in his line of sight and let her legs fall just slightly open with her skirt hiked above her knees. He couldn't see anything, but his imagination did the work for him and he was impressed he even hit the target.

At one point, Killian made sure that he bent, ass in Swan's direction, and grinned when he heard her muttering imprecations at him under her breath.

Things got more blatant quickly. Killian claimed that Emma was standing in the wrong spot and, grabbing her hips moved her against him- her ass to his pelvis. She made him leave before she tried to take her turn, but for one moment she melted against him, leaning back and letting him hold her up.

The next time, Emma did it to him, coming up behind him and brushing her hands from his shoulders down his arms, tenderly touching her forehead to his shoulder. He might have imagined it, but he could have sworn she kissed his shoulder blade. That one didn't light the same fire in him, but it did make his bones feel, for a moment, as though they were melting in bliss.

Finally, after nearly an hour of this behavior, Tink came back and threatened to throw ice water over the pair of them if they didn't cut it out.

"One more throw then," Killian said, as they hadn't been keeping track of the points for nearly 20 minutes. "Ladies first."

Emma stood, shoulders square, facing the dartboard at a slight angle. She shot a quick glare over her shoulder intending to keep him in his place, and Killian just smiled, having no intention to interrupt her.

Three quick, sharp motions and the darts were in the board, clustered together one ring out from the centre and Emma was whooping and hopping up and down.

"Hah! You're going to owe me so much coffee!" she cried, sauntering over to him.

"We'll see, Swan, I still have my throw. Yours is good, but not unbeatable."

She just grinned and then, surprising him more than anything she'd done all day, and perhaps in the entire time he'd known her, she threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him, hard and sweet and for all the world to see, right on the mouth.

It was a quick, technically chaste kiss. He didn't even have time to respond, but it was the promise of so much more.

Then she had released him and was sitting at their table, taking a sip of her third beer of the night. She wasn't drunk, he was sure of that. Something else had compelled her, and he was not sorry.

He faced down the dartboard and glanced over his shoulder at her for a heartbeat before throwing his first two darts as quickly as possible.

Like her yellow ones, the blue plastic fletching on his darts was in the ring outside of the bull's eye- so far they were even. If he hit the centre, he'd win. If he hit the edge, she would.

He remembered the warmth of her body pressed against his for one exuberant moment, and concluded that he'd already won and released the last dart.

Emma's whoop filled the restaurant again, which made both Tink and Robin laugh.

~?~?~?~?~

"Did you let me win?" she asked in the dark of his car on the street in front of her house.

"I have the utmost respect for you and would never do anything that indicated otherwise."

"That was a very carefully truthful answer that didn't answer either yes or no. You don't even believe in my super power."

"Of course I do. I've seen it in action too often to disbelieve."

She laughed. "I had an amazing night, Killian."

She could hear the smile in his voice when he answered. "I did too, Emma."

"Walk me to my door?"

"As my lady wishes."

She leaned against him as his arm wrapped around her waist and they made it up the steps of her front porch together. There was no hesitation in him tonight as he pulled her up against him in front of her door and dropped his mouth to hers.

There was no hesitation in her to let him.

It wasn't like the first time, not exactly. This time it wasn't a shock- a static jolt when one least expects- this was the embers of a campfire kept glowing all night finally caught by the wind and blown into roaring life.

His hands slid under her red jacket, up her back, warm against her spine and pressing her ever closer to him. Her hands were in his hair- midnight silk slipping through her fingers. Her nails scraped over his scalp and suddenly her back was to her door and his knee was between her legs and he was a pirate taking his plunder.

Her mind went fuzzy and dark and her body was beginning to take over when he stepped back- not far, only an inch of space between them- to let the cool night air rush between them.

"Gods, Emma," he murmured as he rested his forehead against hers.

"Come in for coffee?" she asked, equally breathless.

He looked up into her eyes, pupils wide and confusion in the crease between his heavy brows.

"I… shouldn't. We shouldn't. It's too soon."

She smiled and stepped away from him. "I'm offering coffee, not my bed. I'm going to need it- the coffee that is."

"It's nearly midnight, Swan."

She opened the door and waved him in. "Tomorrow's Saturday, Jones."

" _I_ still have to be up," he said, even as he entered her house. "If you'll insist on drinking it, I'll make it."

She grinned- that had been her plan the whole time.

As Killian went into the kitchen and flicked on the lights, Emma pulled off her boots and hung her red leather jacket on the railing up to her room to remember to take up when she went. She padded into the kitchen in her socks, following the sound of her coffee grinder. He didn't turn to look at her as he continued to putter, so she sat down at the table and plucked a rose from the cup at the centre.

"Next time I bring you flowers, I'll be sure they come in a proper vase," he said without turning.

Emma considered telling him off for his presumption, but she couldn't even fake it: there _would_ be a next time.

Finally he turned and took the opposite seat. Emma swung her feet into his lap instinctively, and he looked down, opening his mouth to make a comment, but stopped, staring.

"Were you wearing those Cookie Monster socks all night, Swan?"


End file.
